


Under the Dome

by FictionRants18



Series: Themyscira [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, But Not Porn, F/F, G!P, Girl Penis Lexa, I will add tags as the story progresses, canon & AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionRants18/pseuds/FictionRants18
Summary: A weird Themyscira AU—————Clarke was sent to Earth to check if it was habitable. It was. Or at least the series of islands she landed on was. The thing is, all of the place’s inhabitants were women. Or so it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

She watches as her toes were devoured and released by the waves. The day was scalding hot, biting every inch of her skin, and puncturing through the thin cloth that barely covered her body. There were children around. They were laughing, building castles and running about in the white shore.

Never did she think she’d see the Earth. She thought of dying miserably in the Ark without having bathed in the sun or feeling fine sand on her toes or tasting the salt in the ocean air.

It’s been a month since she arrived here. The Council sent her in a pod, alone, to see if Earth could now support life.

The place she landed at was a series of islands, an archipelago. Being primitive and thinly populated, the islands weren't as beautiful as those she’d seen in movies. But they were land and beach. And with that, this place was everything Clarke could ever ask for.

Such a secluded area it was, had not fallen prey to the radiation a hundred years before, as though it was protected from the rest of the world. What’s strange though was that all its inhabitants were women. And with the information Clarke acquired from the markets, the island they call Polis had been that way for centuries.

“How do you have children?” she asked the girl she'd come to befriend.

Niylah washed the sand off her hands and plopped on her stomach just beside her.“The Commander,” she shared, eyeing the Sky girl like that was the most absurd question to ask. “She is blessed with man parts between her legs.”

“So all of you came from her seed?”

“Of course,” Niylah confirmed like that was the most absurd follow-up question to ask.

The thought haunted Clarke for weeks but she was too hesitant to seek an answer. She isn’t necessarily a darling in this place. People still wince at the sight of her. A foreigner they think would destroy their stable civilisation. Niylah is one of the few that had been good to her, and the only one she’d grown to trust.

“So if you want a kid, you just go right ahead and knock on her bedroom?”

Niylah chuckled. “Some say the Commander mated them in her throne room. I don’t know much about it. I have not reached the age to bear a child.”

“Do you all want to bear her child?”

“Why, some say they do it for duty. But the Heda is a comely creature. I doubt if any of her mates was ever not smitten by her.”

Niylah rose from the sand. “Come on, it’s time for a meal.”

Clarke hurried at her friend’s heels with more questions in her mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Another week passed while Clarke still failed to contact The Ark. The bangle in her wrist looked fine so maybe the broken signals were the culprit. Under the dome of this weird island though, she was enjoying.

Loud beats of Grounder drums kept her ears alive as she sank on a bench, all sweaty and tired of dancing. Party is a common occurrence in Polis. The Commander, who was nowhere in sight, throws it at her mansion grounds every time the harvests were abundant or whenever her people achieved something valuable. Clarke had no idea what the party is about tonight, but she went regardless. Besides, she’s got nothing else to do.

She lost count of how many glasses of moonshine disappeared down her throat. But was at least aware that she’s about drunk. And of all the sweaty bodies and the heat of the night, Clarke had a problem. She was horny as hell.

It began at the dance floor, when a Grounder woman danced with her, grinding her hip against Clarke’s. And as they roll, the Sky girl's panties dampened. She tried to ignore it, forcing her mind to think of something wholesome, but it only worsened by the second. Clarke contemplates if she’ll ask that woman to take care of it or she’ll just escape in a nearby bathroom to jerk off. She decided that it’s probably best to choose the second option. So with Niylah snoring beside her, Clarke stood and hurried away.

On the hall, she was swept aside by two female guards. In between them was a woman, dressed in black and a cape of gold hang at her shoulder blades.

The Commander.

For some reason, Clarke’s crotch tinged, fresh wetness soaked her panties anew. Her heart thundered at the idea that crossed her tipsy brain. She observed the entourage, following in stealth as they thread the hallways. Right, then left and up the stairs until they halted before a massive double doors. The Heda dipped her head slightly and the women warriors bowed before they marched away.

Clarke waited. Her mind telling her to walk away but her cunt screamed otherwise. The Commander mates with most, if not all women here, hence no one must judge her a prostitute. She advanced hesitantly and wobbly, then politely knocked on the wooden door.

There was no response.

 _Shit_.

Clarke thinks. She knocked again.

This time, she need not wait too long as a muffled ‘Come in,’ answered her back.

The Commander stood beside a four-post bed when Clarke came hobbling in. She can smell the alcohol in her breath and had to exert effort to stabilize her knees.

“ _Chon laik nes_?" The woman asked who she was. This Polis island speak a native language where Clarke understands just very few.

The Heda was young to her surprise. She’d expected close to middle age at least but the grounder she sees through glassy eyes was around her age. Just about past teenage.

And the rumors were true— the Commander was gorgeous.

“I’m drunk,” Clarke croaked in a sing-song reply.

“You’re that Sky girl," the Heda figures.

She may be drunk but Clarke thinks she’s correct to observe that the Commander checked her out.

“I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing in my chambers?”

“I’m drunk,” Clarke tried again but the Heda looked to be at a loss. “I want to get laid tonight,” she blurted out.

The woman still didn’t get it.

Reaching out to lock the door, Clarke stepped deeper into the room. “Take me,” she husked seductively, advancing towards the Heda who was yet to move. “Mate with me. Make love to me. I don’t know how you call it here. But I want it. Tonight. Only tonight.” She pulled the hem of her linen dress above the head and watched as the Commander’s pretty green eyes dip to her breasts. Clarke doesn’t wear bra these days.

At the woman’s pelvis an evident bulge was already growing beneath her tight fly. Clarke licked her lips, thankful that the Commander caught the message this time.

Taking her bangle off, her feet strode forward fluidly, like a metal to a magnet. The Sky girl was attracted certainly. They both were. They were drawn to each other in ways Clarke herself couldn't fathom.

Somewhere in the roll of obscene circumstances, their lips latched. Then Clarke’s hand had trailed down the woman’s pants. She unfastened it until her eagerness broke the zipper, and an erect cock instantly sprung free from it. _The Heda doesn't have an underwear_ , thought Clarke to herself as she gasped. Without looking down she pulled the rod out completely. It was thick and large and it pulsates in her hand.

They were still kissing, a lustful one that Clarke couldn’t believe she’s engaging in. She was kissing someone she barely knew. Someone whose hard dick she couldn’t help but run sensual strokes to. Beginning at the tip and slowly down its base, where her mid-finger and thumb couldn’t meet. The Commander had moaned in silence at the first stroke and with that, Clarke repeated the motion. Slowing down whenever she's about to reach the top so she could caress the head with her thumb. “Fuck,” gasped the Sky girl when early drops of precum spit in her hand. "I can’t anymore.. " she admitted hoarsely. "I need it inside..” Her heated arousal was getting difficult to bear by the second, like she’ll go crazy if she can’t find her release soon. “I need it now,” she rasped and went on to discard her panties, then pushed the naked Commander to the mattress of furs.

The woman bounced on her ass before scooting backwards by the elbows. Tight balls, erect shaft pointing to the her chest. Fuck. The sight only worsened Clarke's craving. And it was when she planted each knee at either side of the Heda’s hip that their eyes locked again. Green and blue. They’ve been exchanging stares for no reason since that kiss. In truth, Clarke hadn't expected to be captivated by the woman’s eyes. They were so green, bearing into her blue ones with skepticism, and a slice of admiration. Though she was too drunk to analyze what those glances meant.

Their gaze broke again because of an outstretched dick that suddenly slapped against one porcelain inner thigh, as if to demand attention in case it was forgotten. Clarke's suppressed laugh escaped in a form of a chuckle. “Someone looks excited?”

“You’re scaring it,” retorted the Hedawith a smirk, but almost immediately sealed her mouth again as her erect dick was smothered in a tight grip.

“Yeah?" Clarke teased. "It doesn’t feel scared in my hand.” By then the cock was rock hard, and this finally made Clarke decide to end both their miseries. She aligned the shaft to her entrance, letting its head kiss her wet opening.

Open mouthed and breathless, the Heda stared at her. Hesitant, shaking hands reaching for the Sky girl's hip. “Be gentle,” she hissed almost pleadingly.

“We could try,” Clarke all but whispered. Then slowly, she lowered herself.

Both mouths fell open at the contact; the Heda feeling the heat around her shaft, and Clarke feeling the hard dick rip every sensitive part of her cunt. “Aaahhh fuck..” she failed to restrain the moan. Not having real sex in months will sure make her sore, and true enough, she'd stopped halfway as she registered the first trace of pain.

The Commander’s lips parted as if to ask if she way okay, but closed it again when Clarke dropped another inch. The Heda instead just gripped at her more steadily then, guiding her as she sinks. This time, she didn’t stop. She slid deeper until the shaft disappeared inside of her completely. “God," rasped Clarke as she adjusts around the length. "You’re huge.”

Panting, the Commander attempted another speech but Clarke shushed her. “I just want to come,” she almost begged, planting her palms at the Heda’s hip. “Make me come and I’ll be out of here.” She moved up to release half the length then sunk back to it slowly. At that, the Commander's loud moan filled the space, head lolling back to the board of her massive bed. Her hands had tightened at Clarke’s hip as the Sky girl edged up again.

The shaft glistened with her wetness, stricken with a thread of faint pink that Clarke figured was her blood. She ignored it. She ignored the soreness that came with it, and slowly plunged down again, bucking her hips a little when the cock was buried to the hilt. Soon she was rocking faster, and harder until the pleasure was too much to forcefully defeat pain.

Before her, the Heda was wrapped in her own sequence of sinful pants. She was a sexy woman, the Commander. And the truth in Niylah’s words dawned on Clarke then. Someone as gorgeous as this could certainly capture people’s fascination. They would tremble in willingness to share her bed and consider bearing her child the highest privilege.

Clarke felt that way.

But perhaps it was the liquor that gave her such stupid emotion. Of course it was the alcohol, or the pleasure in her cunt, because orgasm was building with every roll of hip. And with every slap of skin, she was pushed closer to the edge. But the Heda’s hands left her waist then. They crawled under her legs and Clarke was lifted up without warning. She'd gasped as the cock slid out, and groaned in a helpless breath when it left her completely.

The Commander was panting, her dick slapping the air as she swiveled to flattened the Sky girl's body to the bed. Clarke herself was weak, and even while she liked the soft pillows beneath her head and the clean furs that tickled her skin, her cunt ached with the loss. It felt void and all the more needy while the Commander just knelt there, pumping her dick with their mixed fluids aiding every slide.

But the Heda moved closer soon, and pushed her dick to invade Clarke again. The Heda pounded roughly into her, tearing her apart like no one had. The thrusts polluted the room with the sound and smell of lust, until Clarke was completely gone. Until she was biting her thumb and until she was shuddering because a piercing orgasm was consuming her body.

The Heda hastily pulled out then. Stroking her dick wildly, a stream of milky release erupts with every push up its scarlet tip. Green eyes receded to the back of her head, reappearing only after she’d emptied herself into Clarke's prominent cleavage.

There were minutes of shared pants and harsh breaths. And while both coped with final spasms, the Sky girl kept running her eyes around the Heda’s charming face. “You’re too young to be the Commander,” she comments, smiling a little.

A playful smirk answered her. “I get that a lot."

It was the last thing the Heda said for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

She woke up in the chambers alone. No signs of the Commander but there was a large tray beside the bed, full of fruits and bread and whatever else she can’t identify. Clarke popped a grape into her mouth, and had to wince at the biting soreness between her legs as she moved.

Unabashedly, she consumed an adequate meal, wondering if the Commander does this to all her mates. Then she agonizingly hopped off the bed and dressed up.

She’s aware that the Heda is about to deliver a speech that morning. It happens very seldom— once or twice a year according to Niylah, only to update the people on events and progress.

No one spared Clarke a glance as she strode down the mansion. She went on walking until she reached the square, where a dais was beautifully set up. At its center was a throne and a few women guards were already surrounding it.

Clarke snaked her head around to find Niylah standing among the thick crown in front. She bulldozed her way to her side.

“Where have you been?” Her friend asked.

Clarke bit her cheek. “Nowhere.”

Niylah eyed her curiously but let the matter go when the crowd began to hush. The Commander was escorted to the podium. She wore black and her cape was red, walking regally until she eased herself down the throne.

Clarke held on to Niylah and it took a while before she picked her jaw up from the floor. 

The woman sitting on the throne wasn’t the one she slept with.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a long chapter. I didn’t expect I’d write this over 7 thousand words. Lol. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and nice comments xx 
> 
> And aren’t you the brightest readers?! I’d be giving out spoilers had I answered your thoughts. 
> 
> Anyhoo, it seems that there were varied interpretations of Chapter 1. And that’s okay because it was meant to be shady. This chapter will make it all clear. Let me know what you think later? I'd be glad to hear more clever ideas too.
> 
> P.S. This fic is not porn. But smuts are inserted as I deem necessary. And, I coin my own Trigedasleng.

Clarke lay awake.

Her eyes, not at all heavy as she reclined flat on her back, gazing past the convex window at the ceiling of her pod. Through its thick glass, the stars seemed so close. She’ll stare while they sparkle at the grey sky, until sleep finally takes her. 

It‘s been a week since that stupid party that wound up into a foolish sex night. Foolish as it may, Clarke thought about it a lot. In each passing day and especially at night when the people of Polis had retired to their own domiciles. When everywhere’s dark and cold like that very night.

It didn’t help that her core ached for days. Extreme pain sunk in the day after. She must’ve been so drunk and stimulated to survive such violent assaults. Had she been so tight or if the cock she coerced to fuck her was that big, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps both.

Her center was all healed now though. But even with the pain gone, the woman responsible for it just won’t leave her mind. Thick chestnut waves, the sharpest jaw she’d seen, big green eyes. Pouty lips that strain to the side for a cocky smirk.. God. What a face to occupy one’s mind. Clarke even catches herself smiling sometimes, like a teenage idiot who managed to score on a heartthrob.

She spent the past days roaming around Polis, running errands like before. But this time, with an added task to search for the woman she can no longer call ‘the Commander.’

The woman she slept with wasn’t the Heda.

Niylah confirmed as much when Clarke cracked the question over and over at the middle of that short speech.

‘Why, that on the throne is surely the Heda,’ the grounder snarled. ‘And yes, Clarke, there’s only one Commander,’ her friend stressed and thereafter ignored her nudges to the benefit of the monologue onstage. Clarke decided that perhaps that was better. Had she blurted out all the questions in her mind, a prying Niylah would more likely join her growing stack of worries.

There were _Trigedasleng_ and English parts in the speech, and Clarke of course didn’t pay attention to both. How can she when every minute that passed nauseates her? How can her mind register anything else when it overflowed with uncertainties? She slept with God knows who and she stood under the sun that morning, sore and sweating, with breasts still sticky with remnants of the person’s seed. Clarke must consider herself dirty. Disgusting even, at her failure to contain such lustful craving. But her stupid Sky girl self wasn’t anywhere near those. And the only feeling she harbored since that moment was the vehement longing to see the woman again.

And seven days later, Clarke was yet to succeed.

 

* * *

 

 

Grounder women in thin armor walked on either side of her. Clarke huffed as she climbed the last step up the grand staircase of the mansion’s main entrance.

Persistent, rattling pounds roused her from sleep that morning. She allowed the blinding sunlight to welcome her into the day before darting her vision to the small monitor at the wall. It displayed two warriors, waiting at the pod’s metal entrance. Clarke had to look twice to affirm if it was really her alien door that the women were knocking into— no grounder had taken that much interest in her before.

After a filling meal and thousands of steps later, she’s marching up the Commander’s immense white residence. The warriors had’t said much about this summoning. Only that the Heda requests her presence and that she was to be escorted to the throne room, unharmed.

Clarke’s head was a dense ball of thoughts, swirling mostly with curiosity. The chunk of which isn’t the ‘why’ of this unexpected invitation, but more on the ‘who’ of it. _Who_ , in fact, ordered her appearance at the mansion that day? Perhaps this was nothing but a charade? Perhaps when the door of that throne room opens, Clarke will finally find the very woman she’d been searching for the past week?

“ _Heda gaf ai op Skaigada._ ” (Heda wants to see the Sky girl), her escort whom she learned was called Echo, announced. She was a tall fellow with a long serious face.

One of the guards chanced a glare at Clarke before pushing the door open.

The entrance hall was a wide rectangular space, at its far end was an elegant dais where the antler throne sits. At that moment, it was empty. Devoid of the Heda who was nowhere to be seen.

“This way,” Echo instructed. Then led their little parade past the servants and guards at the hall, and even past the dais itself. The tall grounder opened a single door just behind the throne and Clarke dragged her feet to follow.

She stepped into another broad space, smaller in measurements than the one before. But this time, its rectangular center wasn’t plain stone. It sported a round indoor pool, which gave the room an overall serene ambiance, even while the brick walls were a boring shade of grey. There weren’t much ornaments around, only empty windows that allowed abundant daylight and two wooden doors at either side of the back end. Clarke hadn’t been in this part of the mansion before. In fact, this was only the second time she’d set foot here. The first being that party, held somewhere she can no longer trace.

“Walk faster Sky girl.” The other escort nudged her elbow.

Clarke blinked and did as told.

Echo halted before the door to the right. “We wait here,” she decided. 

Clarke wondered what the delay was about but immediately obtained the answer once she fell beside the tall warrior. Clarke could only bite her cheek as she hears the lustful moans seeping through the door. And from the sound of it, the Heda’s company wasn’t just one woman.

Clarke avoided Echo’s gaze in favor of the pool’s calm waves. On one hand, she was startled. Awed at how the grounders showed no loathing at the lewd affair just a wall apart from where they all stood. And on the other hand, she was bursting her own bubble of delusion— she no longer hope to find the woman she slept with behind that door. Instead, she now wished, so fervently, that the woman inside was the _true_ Commander. That Heda at the square who spoke about subjects she couldn’t recall a single word of.

Clarke didn’t expect to feel this way. When she knocked at that bedroom door days ago, she was sure to open her legs to a woman who’s had hundreds of sexual partners. She refused to analyze how the perception changed, and what exactly spun it around. But she accepts as much that the heedless Sky girl who entered the woman’s quarters that night wasn’t the same Clarke that walked out of it the next morning.

Clarke shifted her weight to one foot as the wails next door dwindled then turned to giggles of varied tunes. She was honestly tempted to leave. Give the Commander ample time for her sexual escapades that Clarke had no interest in witnessing.

But soon, the door creaked opened and two women materialised at the threshold. They were still high with giggles, speaking in hushed Trigedasleng while Clarke watched them stride away. One was middle-aged who probably was a mother herself. The other was younger, though evidently older than Clarke. Her legs wobbled and had to cling to the other woman to walk more stably. She looked elated though, her first time may have been worth it.

“ _Min yu op, Skaigada._ ” (Enter, Skygirl), Echo ordered and Clarke guided her wits back to where she’s being led.

The new room looked like a war chamber. It includes a small sitting area opposite a wooden table, where the map of Polis was flattened with heavy stones. Clarke tried not to analyze where exactly the blatant matings took place, and went on scanning the space. Deeper into the room was the Commander’s curule throne, where the woman herself sluggishly lounged, clothed only in thin wool and basic leather pants. From meters away, Clarke could see the shallow huffs of exhaustion leaving her lungs.

The Commander offered a minimal, discreet nod. Immediately, both escorts exited, carefully sliding the door behind them.

There were long moments of still silence while Clarke studied the royal woman she was left alone with. Her features were clearer now that she’s _this_ close. Braided chestnut curls flowing down to her chest, the evenly tanned skin, sharp-edged and prominent jawline. Plump lips.

God.

All these familiarity made her head spin. Very, very similar. Except for the fact that Clarke was looking directly at two astute, caramel eyes. 

Permanent thin lines crossed the woman’s forehead. There were small ones at her lips too, all serving as telltales of her age. But her wisdom over years of leadership could not be concealed. There was a spark of pride in her eyes and her chin was raised in a distinctive angle.

A crucial question was then scratched off Clarke’s mental notes— this woman before her was _indeed_ the Heda. Clarke was immensely relieved in amounts she can’t understand.

“It had been a moon’s turn since I heard of your arrival,” the woman announced. Her voice that spread through the quiet room wasn’t loud but nevertheless superior. “What is your purpose here?”

“Heda,” Clarke dipped her head with utmost respect. She pondered on offering her name as an introduction but decided against it. “I was born and raised in Space,” she recited instead. “My people sent me to check if Earth is now free of radiation.”

“I’m aware that there are those who took refuge up in the heavens,” the Heda paused as another puff passed through her mouth. “A wise move to escape that disaster one century ago. Polis was never affected by that wave you call radiation. My people existed before and after the holocaust.”

The Heda rose. “You’ve proven that my islands are safe,” she stated factually, descending in leisurely pace at the steps of her low dais. “Tell me, _Skaigada_. Am I wrong to assume that your leaders plan to send more people down?”

Clarke’s feet slid backwards unconsciously. If it was due to the accurate accusation or just plain intimidation at the approaching Commander, she wasn’t sure. And she dropped her eyes along with her voice when she spoke. “Our leaders are exploring the options of survival.”

“Your survival.” The Heda’s eyes were as shrewd as her tone. “What led you to believe that Polis accommodates outsiders?”

Clarke injected more reverence to her next answer. “Commander, if I may,” she began and went on only after the Heda raised her brows in acknowledgement. “The islands are almost uninhabited. Your population is dwindling because people die of diseases and animal attacks and sometimes due to their own riots. Your procreation method may not sustain your race.” Clarke humbly pointed out.

The Commander pivoted on her heel, turning her slender back at Clarke. Blue eyes followed as the woman paced to her throne’s side, where an elegant red cloak was spread.

“We can help,” Clarke encouraged. “Please allow us to help.”

“Words spread like water in the markets, I see.” The Heda contemplates. Then turned to pierce Clarke with a stony look. “Did you also hear that men die in this place, _Skaigada_?”

Clarke was taken aback. The information had oddly failed to reach her ears. She knows that the people of Polis were widely born as women, but didn’t think that men actually _die_ in this place. And with her experience the past week, she’d presumed that there were a few who possessed male parts. There were others like the Commander, and Clarke wonders why the responsibility of reproduction rests solely on the Heda’s shoulders.

Noticing the confusion on Clarke’s face, the Commander chuckled. “Before my time, men gets whisked here on rare occasions,” she relayed. “But they die. They start coughing out blood and pass within a fortnight.”

Clarke shook her head. While it raced with questions, she also can’t wait to inform the Ark about this. She wished to hear her mom’s solutions, he er friend Raven could contribute suggestions too.

“We have the technology,” she interjected and stepped closer. “My people can search for answers.”

The Heda’s eyes flicked at her approach, reminding one rash Sky girl of who she was speaking to. The condescending stare made Clarke stop on her tracks and settled on just holding the Heda’s eyes. “But only if you let us,” she finished meekly.

“It won’t be wise to close doors on any possibility.” The Heda ran her fingers along the thick red cloak. “It pains me to cut this meeting short, _Skaigada_. But I am to receive somebody important in this chambers soon. You must understand that I have several commitments.“

Clarke reluctantly nods.

Then, impassive brown eyes held her stare, before the woman’s stern voice flowed around the space again. “ _Ai laik Heda,_ ” she pronounced coldly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Echo waited alone at the threshold when she exited the room. “I thought it’s going to take longer,” the grounder comments and began to pace forward.

“I didn’t expect to wish it was.” Clarke followed at her heels as the sound of water ripples slowly soothed her strained nerves. She almost forgot that a pool exists opposite that war room.

And as she paced beside Echo, high-pitched giggles disturbed her cloud of thoughts. She found servants perched at the gutters, their camisoles wet as their calves dangled down the water. Clarke envied them. And had nearly concluded that the pool was for everyone’s use, had it not been for the woman the servants were bathing with.

Clarke froze.

Her swirling thoughts vanished in thin air as her gaze landed at the fierce green eyes she spent a week finding. The woman was soaked to the chest. One servant combed her hair while its brown tips kissed the water’s surface. She was masked in absolute deadpan but her eyes looked at Clarke with evident recognition.

Clarke’s heart pounds. She didn’t know how to swim, yet all she wanted at that moment was to dive into the cold waters of that pool. She’d fancied a short dip since she saw it. And now, that desire escalated a thousandfold for reasons that were far from a blissful bath.

Echo’s broad body loomed before her face, making it impossible to continue her staring game with those two green orbs. “Do you always have to stop and stare at the water?” Echo sounded annoyed.

“I uh-“ Clarke blinked rapidly. Well, she wasn’t just staring at the water this time. But saying that aloud was pointless so she relented, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, let’s go.”

She strode more steadily. Faithful at her place beside her escort even while she feels those intense green eyes digging at her back.

“ _Hod op!_ ” (wait), the woman’s familiar voice rung across the closed space.

Echo froze like she’d stopped breathing and twisted on her heel after few heartbeats.

“I want to speak to the Sky girl.” Clarke heard the command from behind. “I’ll have her escorted back later.”

Echo swallowed and turned to Clarke. “Looks like you have another stop,” she teased before swirling her around by the elbow and leading her to the pool.

“Leave us,” roared the woman, extending the order to those servants still giggling by the waters. They both jerked upright and vacated their spots in seconds. Echo then bowed before turning to depart without looking back.

And just like that, they were alone. Clarke was left with a frantically jumping heart, shaking as she stood by the gutters, with cold water washing her sandals.

Her lips had quirked into a shy smile though. Because the moment the doors were shut and the chaotic sounds around the mansion were muffled, she was greeted with gentle emerald eyes and that gorgeous smirk that occupied her mind for days.

 

///

 

The pool was only as deep as her belly. She learned as much upon reaching the last step of the pebble-laden stairs.

Clarke tugs her linen dress down as she made her way into the water. It floats uncontrollably to her dismay. On any other instance, she would’ve let it go. But when she’s being watched by someone she spent nights thinking about, it’s just embarrassing.

“Let it drift,” the woman suggested dryly. “No one else is here to see you, Klark.”

Clarke halted at the sound of her name, but forced herself to conceal the astonishment until she was sitting at the underwater bench opposite the grounder. She isn’t going to ask how or why the woman knows her name. Her identity definitely flew around since the pod landed. Still, Clarke was elated that this person bothered to learn and remember it.

Trying not to blush she says, “You’re probably the second in all of Polis who called me by my name.”

A faint smirk was sent her way. “It’s a beautiful name.”

The mysterious grounder shifted in her seat, slightly rising to reveal pale brown nipples underneath her wet white garment. Clarke can’t stop running her eyes around that face and those little parts of the woman that wasn’t soaked in water.“Who are you?” she finally asked.

The woman reached for a goblet at the gutter behind, her plump lips curled into a thin smile before taking a brief sip of what Clarke assumed as liquor. Then intense green eyes fixed Clarke in a way that made her shiver. “I’m Lexa,” the grounder announced softly.

Clarke expected to hear more. She wants to know who the woman was and her relevance in Polis. Why does she live in this mansion, and why were servants provided to assist her. The answer was almost clear though. This person was the Commander’s daughter. It doesn’t take a genius to detect the resemblance and figure out the clues.

But then again, everyone here is the Commander’s daughter. Save perhaps for those old seniors whose origins Clarke was yet to find out.

“Lexa,” Clarke repeated, and at that moment, it felt like that was all the information she needed.

Lexa hummed. “So, Clarke,” she called as though the Sky girl’s attention wasn’t already undivided. “Do I need to ask why you’re here? Are you in the middle of another _venture_ like the last time?”

Fuck.

Clarke’s cheeks burned, and the teasing smirk Lexa sent her only made it worse. She wasn’t proud of that night, even while it turned out magical. 

Gathering her wits, she chose a clever approach. “First, I’m here because the Heda asked me to,” she rasped. “And with warriors watching me the whole time, there really is no chance to escape; had I wish to perform such venture, that is.”

Lexa only eyed her intently, face impassive.

“Next, I vividly remember telling you that whatever transpired between us was only for that night,” Clarke stressed, biting her cheek while her stupid mind whispers that in truth, she wouldn’t mind another.

“And most importantly,” Clarke raised a forefinger. “I’m not drunk. So, I’m sober enough to resist such indecent— as you call it— venture.”

The grounder’s lower lip disappeared between her teeth, thoughtful. Then she poured a deep purple liquid into a metal glass before swimming across to where Clarke slumped dazed.

The Sky girl accepted the glass and huffed a soft ‘Thanks.’ It was all she could say. Or think of when Lexa draws this close, looking all wet and fucking gorgeous.

Blinking, Clarke’s mouth parted as her eyes land at the woman’s full lips, and the drops of water trickling from it. Clarke feels lightheaded, already drunk with this infatuation over someone she barely knows. It was all just too much. Too much that her heart thumps uncontrollably. Lexa’s lips were moist and red, and Clarke’s lungs constrict as though she’d stop breathing if.. if she didn’t lean forward and—

The throne room door swung open. Lexa didn’t flinch, her gaze remained at Clarke amidst the sounds that filtered through the space. It was the Sky girl who broke the eye contact, flicking her stare at the warriors marching by the sidelines. Gracefully walking between them was a young woman in a flowy silver dress. Her skin was tanned and her face clearly pretty under a thick black hair.

“Who is she?” Clarke wondered aloud, watching the small party entered the war room.

“Costia.” Lexa’s stern voice rung before tepidly floating back to her side of the pool. “She’s my sister.”

Clarke threw a low chuckle. “Every young woman here is your sister, Lexa.”

“Not everyone,” the grounder abruptly countered, pronouncing the phrase with intoxicating gentleness while her green eyes, flecked with affection, slowly searched Clarke’s face. “Not you.”

Clarke gritted her teeth. The words. Matter-of-fact as they were, felt as though they held meaning. Like in Lexa’s eyes, she was special. Special not only because she wasn’t the Heda’s daughter, but something more. Clarke somehow wished it was something more.

Trapped in this little bubble of daze, she failed to hear the approaching footsteps, and it was only when an unfamiliar voice spoke that she was dragged back to present.

“ _Heda gaf ai op yu._ ” (Heda wants to see the you), a warrior who stood by the gutters croaked. It was meant for Lexa but the guard stole a curios glance at Clarke.

“I have my own guest,” Lexa deadpanned. “Tell her I’ll go later.”

“ _Heda biyo gaf kom nau._ ” (Heda says it should be now).

Lexa scowled and stayed quiet for a while before responding coldly. “You realise I need to properly dress up after this bath? I’m sure Heda will not deprive me of that little time.” She took another sip at her goblet. “I’ll be present at the war chamber after I’m done.”

The warrior seemed satisfied. She then bowed before turning away without another word.

“I’m gonna go.” Clarke broke the silence, setting her untouched glass down.

Lexa nods and breathed a soft apology, then paddled towards the stairs. Clarke followed— slowly, because she was literally walking. With every step Lexa takes up the stairs, her covers were revealed. Her sleeveless shirt terminated just above her knee, its damp cloth allowed a blurry display of a long tattoo drawn over her spine. The same thin fabric was also wetly pasted around a curvy tan ass, because just like the night they first met, the woman lacked an undergarment.

Lexa twisted sideways, and dumbstruck blue eyes inevitably landed on a thick tan bulge. Clarke quickly forced her gaze up to find a composed Lexa, whose green eyes betrayed no expression, as though unperturbed by some Sky girl gaping at the cup on her pelvis. “There’s too many people at the throne room to see you on wet clothes. I’ll walk you to a different door and call escorts from there,” she offered.

Clarke agreed as the grounder crouched to collect a heavy dry fabric from the floor. “You know what— you can have my robe. I failed to consider that more people could see you outside..”

“There’s no need for that. I may soak at the beach on my way back anyway.”

Clarke’s plea was dismissed with a faint shake of head. “I’ll let you take it regardless.” 

Standing, Lexa wrapped a towel around the curves of her hip, concealing the necessary. “Pray tell me, Clarke,” she urged. Biceps flexing while she knots the towel at her left side. “Why do we need to obey everything the Heda says?”

Still in the water, Clarke was distracted for moments, before an answer thankfully danced into her brain. “Because she is infallible? Because she knows what’s best for Polis and its people?”

“Don’t be too naïve,” the grounder warned and flashed a tight smile. “We need to obey because she’ll chop our heads the moment we don’t.”

Lexa dipped one foot at the top of the stairs, soaking it just below her toned calves. “Come on, Clarke,” she held out hand and Clarke took it willingly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

 

* * *

 

 

The forest was a maze, but Clarke‘s getting used to it.

Two rabbits dangled on one side of her hip and a squirrel on the other. They were small. But still, she was satisfied with her prize. Their meat could last her days until she goes out to hunt again. She’d been hesitant to kill tiny or young creatures during her first week on the ground, but when her stock of Arker food decreased in half, her motivations changed.

She’d toughened, and her aims have improved too. She could now kill a little faster and walk without batting an eyelash at the animals’ blood leaking down her boots. Clarke stopped by a stream to clean them. She washed the filthy parts of her body too, before resuming the walk back to her pod. After two hours of chasing preys, she’s happy to finally go home.

The sunhad dipped in the orange sky by the time her pod loomed close. It was a large sturdy metal that managed to knock trees off upon landing. The resulting mess forced a small clearing around its spherical form. Clarke likes it. She’d improvised wooden benches at the small area. She’d crafted drying racks too— one for her clothes and a larger one for her catch.

Clarke started a fire and sat to skin a rabbit. She’s happy to embrace the ground and its lifestyle. The Ark’s was dull; Clarke never once regretted being the first to be sent away from it. She do miss her mom though, and the friends she grew up with. Raven and Monty and Octavia, even Murphy. That scumbag who bullies Arkers like he had the brawniest built. Clarke had always found it funny.

After arranging the meat in a skewer, she held the catch over the flame as she fancied another long dip at the beach. A soak after dinner was a routine she developed the past days. From where she sits, the howl of waves seemed to call her. She loved it even while she longs to share these moments with someone. Be it family or a friend or a lover, Clarke wasn’t picky. Often, she wonders if Lexa could fit at space beside her. But her chair was a rough and hard log which Lexa might not bother sitting at.

Of course, the gorgeous grounder still disturbed her head. Five days had passed but this time, Clarke knew better than to look for her. Lexa lives in the mansion and wouldn’t roam around in markets and forests. She baths in a private pool and not in the beach. So on those times green eyes and pouty lips cross her mind, she’ll try to prise them away. Clarke was on the ground to explore an alternate home for her people, and not to pursue romance with someone she once released her orgasm to.

Clarke finished one rabbit leg when two warriors came invading her little haven. Echo wasn’t one of them. In fact, both women weren’t familiar to her.

“ _Skaigada, as gada imfou gon yu._ ” (Skygirl, we have a message for you).

“You have an information for me?” she hazily translated, earning a scoff from the warrior who stepped forward and presented her with a folded strip of parchment.

Clarke’s brows creased, before opening the paper to find phrases in punctuation-less scribbles:

 _Klark_  
_I invite you_  
 _to spend supper_  
 _with me tonight_

it read.

 

* * *

 

 

So many candles killed the cold and burned the room with brightness. Clarke particularly likes the warmth, and the comfort it brings after her long walk of braving the breeze.

Upon reading that piece of parchment, she didn’t know what to expect. Her heart had jumped, of course. She’d get to see and talk to Lexa again. But soon she worried if the Commander will grace them with her presence. Would she join supper? Would the Heda be bothered by Clarke and Lexa’s little ‘friendship’? But when she reached the mansion and the warriors guided her to familiar corridors, Clarke knew that she was being led to Lexa’s chambers.

The grounder herself opened the door. Her brown hair was tied in braids, less intricate than the Heda’s. Her black knitted long sleeves was matched with pants of the same shade. Once the escorts had turned away, Lexa offered a polite ‘Come in, Klark.’ She was charming as always. Her movements graceful yet calculated as she guided the Sky girl to the balcony.

Over strips of bread and fruits and between clanks of cutlery, they exchanged a few words. Lexa was being unfairly attractive both in elegant movements and looks. Though, as it appears, Clarke wasn’t the only captivated soul in that balcony. Lexa seemed to be smitten by her too.

There were times of still silence when they just stare at each other until one, usually Clarke, averts her gaze. She could feel that lightheadedness again, brought by this superficial attraction. A force like magnet that Lexa made no move to repel.

They stayed outside until the wind went colder, then its blows swept all the more harsh, and Clarke had to suggest they transfer inside.

Now they’re on the couch, hunched at the coffee table as Clarke scratches some curves on a piece of paper. She’d managed to calm her nerves even as tight biceps brushed her arm, and the fresh scent of Lexa invaded her nose. The grounder smelled of soap and forest that were altogether addicting. Thank God, Clarke was granted a short dip at the beach earlier. Otherwise, she wouldn’t dare sitting this close to Lexa.

Finishing the last stroke of a neat letter ‘e’, Clarke underlined the text. “This is how you spell my name,” she informed the grounder who dutifully nodded like a child. 

Lexa leaned a forearm lightly across Clarke’s thighs, then ran two fingers at the scribbles. “You only added one character,” she observed, seemingly grasping the correct spelling but won’t use it later anyway.

“Okay,” Clarke set the charcoal pen down, cautious not to move so rigorously lest Lexa’s arm would fall from her legs. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Clarke pouts, sitting back and focusing on those chestnut braids. “Like why did you invite me here.”

Lexa turned, a smirk on her lip. “I told you, harvest’s plenty. I wanted to share them with someone.”

The Sky girl wished to press. To ask ‘why tonight?’ Or better yet, ’why her?’ There are hundreds of women in Polis. But Lexa resumed speaking. Her stare was that of curiosity as she pulled her arm to herself, leaning back a little. “Why did the Heda invite you to the war room?”

Clarke hummed. “To be fair, I thought she’d receive me in her throne room.” Lexa stilled when when Clarke absently seized her hand. Green eyes were impassive as the Sky girl relentlessly dragged her forearm and carefully placed it back to where it was seconds ago. Half of it rested on a thin linen dress while the other was pressed against a porcelain exposed skin.

“But anyway,” Clarke resumed like nothing happened. “The Commander wanted to know why I'm in your lands.”

Grasping the answer, Lexa’s eyes darted to the paper, where a detailed sketch of the Ark was drawn. They’d been discussing it since dinner as Lexa slipped questions on anything that, in a nutshell, pertains to Clarke. Querying about her interests, her family, her friends, and what the Sky was like. It leaves the Sky girl blushing on occasion, because those emerald eyes studied her with interest the entire time.

“Your people want to leave the Sky.” Lexa concluded later, head tilting to where Clarke was watching her.

“Ultimately, yes.” Clarke admitted, catching green eyes steal a glance at her cleavage before they flitted back to her face. “The Ark will not last long, we need to explore our next home.”

Lexa nodded comprehendingly. Her stare dropping to the Sky girl’s lips, then down her chest and back up to her eyes. “Does Earth feel like home?”

Clarke thought for a while, letting her head rest on the couch. Her gaze flicked to the curtains, moving with the wind seeping through the windows, then to the candles and the golden statues that held them, to the furs in Lexa’s bed and its ceiling-high headboard. Then to the gold cape, spread on one arm of a nearby single couch. And finally to Lexa herself, who looked at her with longing, like she watched those blue eyes travel around and patiently waited for them to trail back to her.

“Right here it does,” Clarke whispered honestly, and before she knew it, her head leaned forward, eyes darting to Lexa's sightly parted lips, where tensed warm breaths escaped. Breaths that caught when she inclined further until there was no more space between their mouths. Clarke’s heart thumped with worried as she braced herself for a rejection that never came.

Gathering the arm on her thighs, she slowly moved it to her waist. The gesture made Lexa smile into the kiss, and the grounder's mouth pushed further until Clarke's head found the backrest. Lexa moaned when the Sky girl's tongue inched between her teeth, but almost immediately returned the motion, stroking the blonde's tongue and sucking it on occasion.

Clarke was utterly lost. Her back slid to the sofa’s arm while her hands crawled up Lexa’s neck, pulling her to follow. She opened her legs and Lexa's lean body carefully fell right between them. The grounder's leather pants scratched her thighs as the kiss turned slick, and it didn’t take long when a bulge began to grow against the fabric of Clarke’s panties.

Feeling herself harden, Lexa pulled back, slowly crawling backwards until she was sitting between Clarke’s legs. Her face was reddish, her head vaguely shaking. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled under her breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s all right,” Clarke assured her, trying not to groan at the loss of Lexa’s feel against her body. “There’s no need to apologize.”

The grounder's head still shook. She was tugging her pants to different directions in an attempt to hide the arousal. “I’m sorry,” she insisted. “You’re a foreigner here, not one of our women. I shouldn’t have.. I shouldn’t. You’re my guest—“ 

Clarke straddled her. “And your guest says it’s okay.”

“Klark,” Lexa husked, gulping heavily because the sensation of the girl’s body on her lap only made the bulge worse. “Clarke, I don’t want to exploit you.”

“And didn’t I do just that the first time I came here?” Clarke argued, thumbs brushing calm circles at Lexa’s collar bones. “It happened that night. I’m not drunk now, but I won’t mind if it happened again.” she confessed, surprising even herself. “And to be honest, I’m pretty sure you need it right now,” she added as her eyes dropped to where the erection was ripping Lexa’s trousers. 

But the grounder remained defensive. “It could still go flaccid.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke urged Lexa into a kiss, willing the grounder to suck her while she sneaked down to Lexa’s bottom garment. Clarke twisted its restraints until a fully erect cock eagerly edged out. She took the dick from where it slapped Lexa’s belly, wrapping its head in a gentle grip, heaving a gasp of surprise at how hard it had become, and brought her eyes back to a panting Lexa. “No it won’t.” 

“Forgive me, I’ve never been this easily excited before—”

Clarke captured her lips, instantly shushing her. She took pride at the thought of making Lexa as hard as the dick she was still holding, and her free hand urged Lexa’s fingers between her legs, letting the grounder feel the telltale of her own arousal. “I want it too,” she hissed as she finds green eyes glistening with surprise and hunger.

She discarded Lexa’s shirt first before sliding off her lap to remove her pants too. Clarke gaped at the grounder’s fully naked form, she could see her more vividly now that her eyes were free of drunkenness. Lexa’s body was perfect, comparable to a sculpture with slender breasts and chiseled abs that Clarke wanted to run her tongue against. Even Lexa’s cock was beautiful. Its veins were less, its perfect shape was wrapped in smooth, thin skin that was more pink than tan. Its balls doesn’t sag, tight and firm beneath a fair skin. Clarke wondered if all these refined features were because Lexa was supposed to be a woman.

“Clarke,” the grounder’s voice called. “It’s not too late if you’re having second thoughts. I would understand—“

“No stop. I'm not having second thoughts,” Clarke stepped out of her clothes to prove it. “I just want to look at you,” she said, before slowly settling onto Lexa’s lap again, letting their warm skins touch amidst the cold night.

“Klark,” Lexa failed to suppress a moan when the Sky girl’s clit pressed against her shaft, and all she could do was bring her hands up the curve of the girl’s waist. “I don’t know what will happen after this.”

Clarke nodded quietly, her mind running thoughts about the Ark, about her mom and the friends she hadn’t heard from in weeks, wondering if she’ll see them again. Wondering if her people will ever find a more stable shelter; if they’d ever live on Earth like what they all dreamed of since birth.

“I don’t know either,” she whispered, feeling the soothing brushes at her waist. “No one knows what happens next, Lexa. We only have today,” She kissed her. “Tonight. And tonight I know that I want you to touch me.”

For the first time that night Lexa’s smile reached her eyes. Without another word, her biceps flexed, hands securing Clarke’s legs before standing to lift them both from the couch. Her dick stood proud between their bellies as Clarke’s wet lips pressed against her balls.

They were kissing languidly while Clarke tangles her fingers at Lexa’s braids, as she let her walk them towards the bed. Lexa moved so stably that Clarke wondered how many women she’d lifted this way before. She didn’t ask though, scared she might not like the answer.

Their mouths were still latched by the time Lexa knelt on the furs, holding Clarke close while stacking pillows at the headboard. She let Clarke go then, lowering the girl carefully until her back pressed against the heap of soft pillows.

Clarke reached up to Lexa’s face. “No one’s carried me that way before.”

“Is it something that could change your mind?”

 _Of course not_ , Clarke thought but she didn’t say it. She instead spread her legs for Lexa to see the glistening wetness of her center. Clarke was exposed, she was fully naked and willing to offer herself yet again to this gorgeous grounder before her. “What do you think?”

Lexa’s hand jumped to her dick at the sight. Gasping, she moved forward to align her shaft to Clarke’s damp entrance. “You bled the last time,” she recalled, eyeing the Sky girl from under her lashes.

“We should go slower,” was all Clarke managed.

Lexa nodded lowly before pressing her head in, forcing a whimper from Clarke as she slid deeper, spreading the girl’s walls until her cock was completely buried. “Does it hurt?” Lexa worried.

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open. “The pain comes with it,” she assured, finishing the sentence with a loud moan as Lexa slightly pulled backwards, only to push forward again. Her mouth opens as she brought her dick out farther and thrust deeper into Clarke. “Lex, fuck.. fuck..” the Sky girl whimpered as Lexa did it again. Her pace was slow at first, careful not to hurt Clarke so much, but it went a little faster when Clarke relentlessly released wetness around her dick, while her hips rocked to Lexa’s thrusts.

Their gazes locked before Lexa leaned down, and resumed her pace while they kissed hungrily. But pleasure overwhelmed them and the kiss broke between heavy pants. Lexa’s resolve was to settle in Clarke’s neck. She licked its delicate skin while she gathered their hands to the sides, pinning the Sky girl in place before pounding on her again.

“Lexa.. fuck..” Clarke threw her head back, husking profanities between breaths. “Lex.. fuck.. I’m close.” She could feel her walls clench tighter around the huge cock that was pleasurably sliding in and out of her.

“Clarke,” Lexa returned a moan, and from the twitch of her dick inside, Clarke could tell that she wasn’t going to last too. “Klaaaark..”

A disturbing knock hammered the room’s door. They both stilled before Lexa lifted herself from Clarke’s shoulders, green eyes wide with panic.

“ _Leksa?_ ” a loud but calm voice called from the outside. “ _Yu tiya bilaik?_ ” (Are you there?)

“It’s _nomon_ ,” Lexa softly mouthed, releasing Clarke’s hand and preparing to pull out. 

“No,” Clarke protested. “No. I’m so close. It would hurt. Please, Lexa..” she begged desperately. “Please finish it.”

“ _Leksa?_ ” The voice went louder, growing a little impatient.

Clarke rocked her hips forward, grabbing Lexa’s ass to herself. Violent pants fell from her mouth as her clenches enveloped the cock tighter.

“ _LEKSA?!_ ”

“ _H-h—hod op!_ ” Lexa managed, barely getting the words out of her throat as she grabbed Clarke’s thighs, holding them steadily before pounding faster. Her cock appeared and sunk into Clarke until the Sky girl’s cum rushed hotly around it. Her eyes darted upwards to find a shuddering Clarke, head thrown back to the pillows, hands between her teeth to stifle the whimpers.

Lexa pushed for a few more shallow pumps before pulling out. Her early squirts shot to Clarke’s entrance and inner thighs, before she managed to bring her dick over the girl’s belly, where she struggled to restrain the moans until the last drop of cum was milked out of her.

“ _Leksa?!?! Chit ste drag em daun?!_ ” (What’s taking so long?)

“ _Ai komb’ir!_ ” (I’m coming). Lexa grinned at the metaphor. She disappeared into the bathroom and emerged wrapped in thin white shirt, a towel at her hip. 

Clarke hid her naked body under the furs when Lexa carefully slipped out of the door. There were loud exchanges, until the voices mellowed down and Lexa glided back inside.

“Sorry about that.” She tossed all her covers and crawled completely naked back to bed, where the Sky girl had propped herself up on both elbows.

Clarke leaned to give her a kiss. “That was the Commander?”

“No. That’s _nomon_.” And when the Sky girl’s brows creased, she added, “That’s my mother. The woman who gave birth to me.”

“Oooh.. What did she need?”

  
“She delivered Heda’s message about a task tomorrow.”

  
Clarke searched Lexa's face and forced herself to ask the top question on her list. “Who are you?”

Schooling her expression to a deadpan mask, Lexa eased herself under the furs. She closed her eyes and Clarke’s warmth brushed against her skin for a while. She knows that a name wouldn’t be enough this time. “ _Ai laik Hainof,_ ” she announced, opening her eyes but fixing them at the ceiling.

Clarke, despite the fear to know what it meant, twisted sideways and forced herself to clarify. “You are the..? I don’t know what the last word mean.”

Lexa’s eyes were sad, her hands fidgeted at the belly before she slowly tilted her head to meet curious blue eyes. “I’m the Heir, Clarke,” she confessed regrettably. Then swiveled back front to avoid the Sky girl's pained gaze. “I’m bound to be the next Commander.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, if you hate the fic (or how you *think the story’s going), you’re very much free to press the exit button. That’s easier than composing harsh comments, or worse, trying to hack my AO3 account!!! (>.<) 
> 
> For you sweet guys out there, thank you so much for the comments xx They always make me smile and push me to keep going  
> (^ ^ ,)
> 
> Chapter 3 is a short one with few loose ends. Well, I’ve drafted more but I’m beginning to doubt if I’ll go through that path.. So, I decided to share those few certain events first. 
> 
> And, this directly picks up from where we left off.

 

Her ears fell deaf for moments.

Her head hurt as though the words Lexa had just said pierced her skull in half. 

Then, as her nerves regained life, Clarke threw the furs rather strongly and hopped off the bed. She let out an awful groan at once as her center’s soreness kicked in. _Let it sore for all I care,_ she thought _. This is the last._

“Clarke—” Lexa hurried behind, her junk hidden by a small pillow pressed to her groin.

Clarke swatted the hand that was attempting to reach her arm. “Don’t touch me,” she spat with another sorry groan as her stupid cunt punished her again. 

Lexa grabbed the clothes that Clarke was crouching down to pick. With a sigh, she gently handed them to the Sky girl, who had one brow raised to the ceiling. “Clarke,” Lexa softly called as she tried to hold a fiery blue gaze. “Please don’t make me apologize for who I am.”

“I’m not asking you to say anything.” Clarke broke eye contact as she pulled her panties up. Then eased her head into her dress and smoothened it to her thighs. “I just want to go home.”

“No,” Lexa protested almost desperately as she zipped her own pants. “The breeze is unforgiving. Stay the night, I’ll have you escorted to your metal home first thing tomorrow.”

Lexa’s words were uttered in such finality, like a command. But Clarke wasn’t having it. “I can take care of myself,” she snapped hoarsely, advancing towards the door before a half-naked Lexa blocked her way. “Lexa please, I’m exhausted.”

“I can’t permit you to leave like this.”

“What, am I your prisoner now?”

“If you step back for a while and breathe, perhaps you’ll realize that that’s not what I’m doing here,” the grounder opened her arms as she reasoned, biceps flexing tightly at each side of two firm breasts.

God. Lexa possessed _everything_ that could spark sexual arousal. Mouth-watering muscle cuts, firm breasts covered in evenly tanned skin, the chiseled couture of her abs. Women would spread their legs voluntarily even before she unleashes that jaw dropping cock. Though, Clarke observed long before, Lexa also sported noteworthy fingers. They were impossibly long that Clarke swears she’d get pregnant once Lexa fucks her with them.

Even Lexa’s lips were tempting enough.

And Clarke was a dumb blonde to think— and hope— that she could have all those to herself.

The thought only made rage bubble back in her chest. “So, no one would stop me from leaving then?”

“ _I am_ stopping you, Clarke.”

“Well, I won’t let you,” Clarke raised her chin, ears red with fury. She wasn’t in the position to be all angry like this, but her chest ached for whatever reason. And all she could do was pour it all on Lexa, who of course knew very well how to fuck her like crazy, because she apparently fucks everyone!

“Why am I even here anyway?” Clarke rasped on. “Clearly you could’ve asked anyone to come. Clearly you could’ve fucked anyone! You could fuck ten women at once, and no one would bat an eye because that’s your duty!”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Lexa simply returned, a slice of pain now evident in her eyes.

But Clarke maintained her stubbornness. “Then great. So let me through that door and we don’t ever need to talk again.”

“No,” Lexa finally threw a shirt on. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave so you don’t have to.”

“Are you insane? This is your house.”

“I’ll be at _nomon’s_ chambers,” explained Lexa, who was seemingly more stubborn.

“Then how—”

“I just need you to sleep comfortably, and not stay out there while the winds are violent.”

“But—”

“You can leave in the morning, I won’t be here to restrict you then.”

And before Clarke could say anything else, Lexa had flown to the doorway. She flicked the knob, opened the door slightly and spared the Sky girl one last glance.

“You’re here tonight because I wanted you to, Clarke,” she said and was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

She was too lazy to step out of her pod that one cold afternoon.

She wasn’t sore anymore. Well, her cunt at least. Three days was quite enough to heal her center, but was clearly insufficient to extinguish the pain she still felt in her chest. Not to mention her gut where all pride seemed to have been sucked out.

It wasn’t about Lexa being the Heir per se, it’s about _her_ deliberately leaving Clarke oblivious to the information. Lexa had every chance to reveal who she was, but instead went on displaying gestures that almost—almost— tipped Clarke into the stupid abyss of something more than infatuation.

She only have herself to blame though. Whoever told her to dive into a grounder’s bedroom that first night? And, who the fuck told her to allow some warmth to creep up her heart at such short stretch of time?

It was stupid as hell. 

She’d thought about it. She thought that maybe it’s a dismal effect of being overwhelmed by the Ground. Perhaps, finally walking on real soil moved her so much, that her inability to share that joy with someone rendered her desperate. Even so, she was still stupid as hell. And because three days helped regulate her rage, Clarke now seems to hate herself in the same magnitude she hates Lexa.

Her eyes flitted over to an almost finished sketch at her worktable— a charcoal exhibit of a woman with gentle eyes. Clarke hates that she’d captured those orbs so vividly, looking so real as they stare right back at her. She’d drafted the image as realistically as a high definition photograph. Huh. Some keen attention to detail over someone she loathes.

Shaking her head, Clarke shifted her interest to the other side of the table, where her hunting tools were tidily arranged. Knives, spearheads and a few arrow heads she rarely use. She wasn’t the best archer, even while she loves pistols.

Near the tools, pressed against the wall, was the two-part radio she carefully powered up. It blared in usual haywire signals as she raised the microphone to her mouth.

_Zzzzzt._

“This is Clarke Griffin, can anyone hear me?”

 _Crack_.

“Mom?”

_Zzzzzt._

Nothing.

She’d been trying to reach them regularly and this had always been the case. She’d wait until frustration crept and still get nothing. Lately, she leaves the radio alive the whole day, but all it transmits are crackles and stray waves. She never dared to fix it though. Clarke was poised to be a doctor; engineering wasn’t her cup of tea.

She tried again, to no avail.

Clarke grunted, standing to fetch cold water from that small fridge at her kitchen. She had abundant power supply, Raven made sure of that. Her friend stashed solar panel slots in the pod’s design that Clarke assumes would last her centuries worth of electricity. 

The pod itself wasn’t small like most. Its frame had ample space for a small sitting room, a dining area and a workshop. Her sleeping cage, beneath the top arc, made the second level. Raven crafted it as such, so Clarke’s bed wasn’t exposed to visitors below, and wouldn’t acquire the dusts of her daily Earth activities.

Clarke loved it. Not only was it her present home, it was also the only link she has to the home she grew up in.

Of course, the Grounders didn’t share the sentiment. They deemed it as disturbing. A huge silver sphere planted at the heart of their natural and coniferous forest. But Clarke couldn’t care less. It’s not like they can shoo her away.

_Zzzzzt._

“Clar—ke?” Abby Griffin’s distinctive voice croaked unstably from the speakers.

Clarke, who was at the middle of refilling her glass, dropped everything in her hands and sprinted back to the worktable.

“Mom?!” she exclaimed excitedly, bringing her face closer to the radio. “Mom, I can hear you!”

“Honey—“

_Crack._

“We’ve been trying—“

Clarke was in tears. After almost two months of failing to get in touch with the Ark, she honestly didn’t expect a voice to finally bounce from that radio. Much less, her mother’s.

“Mom..” Clarke swiped at her damps cheeks, cautiously rotating the frequency button for a more steady channel.  

“Thank God,” Abby’s words were conveyed clearer, and from the sound of it, she was crying too. “Raven’s team finally fixed the signal. Honey, are you all right?”

In between sniffles, Clarke affirmed that she was. There were a good couple of minutes of tender words before she got to discuss the Ground. She described Polis and how she’d cope with the place and its people.

“Can they take us in?” her mother queried, lurching immediately to business.

“I’m still working on that.” Clarke tried to dodge, because well, she hadn’t necessarily worked that hard. And with all the tales she relayed, she of course omitted the details of her senseless flirtatious stints.

“This is important, Clarke,” Abby reminded. “Supplies are projected to last the Ark two years, maybe less. I need to present the council with solutions.”

Clarke attempted to dance away from the subject again, but it only made the conversation run in circles as Abby refused to let the Ground topic go.

“I will speak to the Commander again,” she reluctantly promised, already forming sneaky tactics to avoid Lexa when she step into that mansion. “But mom, have you tried to survey another location?”

“Yes, baby. But it wasn’t successful.”

“What happened?”

“We dropped Diana Sydney’s daughter to a different coordinate and she didn’t survive.”

Clarke swallowed thickly, scanning any memory she’d shared with the girl. Her name was Ashley and was in that boring Earth Skills class, a shy one with brown hair and kind eyes. “Maybe that place’s signal is worse than here—“ 

“No, honey,” Abby countered abruptly. “Her bangle returned organ failure, vital signs collapsed in just two days.”

“Oh mom, I’m so sorry—”

“Clarke fucking Griffin!” Raven Reyes all but screamed at the radio, interrupting Clarke’s looming flood of sympathies.

“I’m speaking to her Raven,” Abby chided coldly as the crackling noise resumed, and Clarke knew it was because they were battling for the microphone. 

Raven later pointed out, “I need to talk to her about the pod. That thing’s essential for her survival, Abby.” And her mom seemed to accept the argument, but then—

“Whoa there, Princess,” Octavia Blake suddenly joined the frenzy. “Banged any grounder yet?”

“Oh dear Lord!” Clarke wailed, voice muffled because her face was buried in her hands by then.

She could her Raven‘s laughs amidst Abby’s groans, and Clarke never got the chance to speak to her mom again until the transmission was cut.

 

* * *

 

 

“I reckon, women who whop drums are hotter than those who play strings,” Niylah judged as the drums were once again whacked to the music’s rhythm.

“Nah,” a dark-haired grounder disagreed. “I prefer dancers. Dancers are the sexiest lot,” she grinned, boasting a set of perfect front teeth.

Clarke traced their gazes and rolled her eyes. They’re in another party at the mansion grounds, which was more lavish than the last. Clarke attended only because she was literally dragged there by Niylah, who managed to rebut all her lame excuses.

She’d been wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia since she found a seat as excerpts of that first party flashed in her mind. The overflowing booze, lively music, she even received a wink from that woman she danced with.

But the dance floor was smaller this time, owing to the low stage that was built in front. The Commander was perched at its center, her seat the highest among three thrones evenly spread in the platform. And though the leftmost chair was empty, the throne to the right was not.

It was the familiar gold cape that teased Clarke’s periphery first when the Commander and her Heir climbed the platform together right after supper. Clarke spat a spoonful of moonshine to Niylah’s entertainment, and the Sky girl had been a stone statue since then.

Over the course of her deliberate immobility, Clarke’s mind was occupied by three major thoughts :First, she’s plotting a genius escape back to her house. Second, she curses fate, because had this stage been assembled that first night, there wouldn’t have been unnecessary confusion on her part. And third, she attempts to drown the fourth thought, which screams that, in truth, she missed the sight of Lexa so much.

The woman’s aware of her presence, certainly. Clarke and company occupied the front table, for Christ’s sake. But the Heir had never so much as incline her head towards Clarke’s direction, which was relieving at first because Clarke didn’t want the attention anyway. But as the night deepens, the deliberate non-recognition caused her nostrils to flare.

Well, how could Lexa even look at her when she’s busy watching the performance right before her nose? Too absorbed by young and graceful dancers, covered only with strips of leathers across the chest and hip.

Clarke honestly wants to stomp into that stage, and drag Lexa as far as possible from those curvy, sweaty figures. Pull Lexa by the wrist and lead her away until they’re alone, and Lexa’s green eyes could focus _only_ on her. Only on Clarke. And Lexa would look at her as though she was the most beautiful woman in Polis, even in her plain pants and blue Arker jacket.

_Yeah. Dream on, Griffin._

“To me, the _Hainof_ is most stunning,” someone at the far left declared. Clarke didn’t know which one said it but her ear instantly stretched to that direction regardless. “Fools mistake her as Heda, but look at her. She’s far more comely!”

“No, no,” taunted a woman named Luna. “You only think that because you fancy her cock.”

Laughter burst across the table, moonshine spilling as cups were tapped on the surface, and the overall noise had thankfully engulfed Clarke’s annoyed groans.

“Can’t wait to reach the age to bear a child, are we?” someone chimed in and the guffaws went more wild.

“I prefer Heda for myself,” some drunk lady barked after swallowing yet another gulp. “Word has it that she grinds them hips so well.” A chorus of low whistles erupted. “Imagine being her wife! Imagine that cock sliding inside you every night!”

“The Commander can take a wife?” Clarke suddenly found her voice, drawing all heads to her. Every mouth in their table suddenly fell agape, tongues hushed and speechless.

It was Luna who sucked the uncharacteristic silence. “Of course she can, Sky girl. That seat to the left is hers. Heda’s role is very taxing, she’ll be in dire need of a wife.”

“A lovely partner by her side because we lot are a bunch to manage,” shoots a voice.

“Heda’s wife must have a broad mind.”

“And a heart of stone!”

“Aye,” a middle-aged woman agreed. “I’d sooner take a dimwit for a wife than a Commander who beds all women your eyes could see.”

Clarke almost choked in her drink at that. She was lucky that the table’s attention had long shifted away from her as all grounders appeared eager to speak their minds.

“Consider it a duty is all,” interjected another drunk. “Don’t fall in love.”

Clarke’s eyes flicked to the stage then. And was surprised to find a staring Lexa, who wasn’t at all perturbed that Clarke caught her. Their gaze lingered for moments until Lexa broke it, in favor of the phrases the Heda whispered in her ears. 

“What about you Sky girl,” Luna prompted. “What stirs your interest?”

Clarke feigned a cough while pairs of agog eyes dart back to her. “The smart one,” she returned without thinking. Then added, “Or someone strong but human.”

The laughters resumed at her words. “Who in these wretched islands has those qualities?”

“Heda!” screamed the drunkard, holding her cup high.

And before they could figure out who Clarke was pertaining to, she excused herself, slipping away from the party and into one of the mansion’s bathrooms, where all she did was wash her face. Her cheeks apparently went rosy, which was odd because she hadn’t had much drink yet.

Outside the bathroom was a dark hallway, lit only by torches and her foot was barely out of the door when she was pushed back inside. Long fingers clasped her arms, gentle and careful, as though afraid to hurt her. Clarke was spun around, her back was pushed against the door as thick gold cape tickled her sides. Her heart thumped rapidly as Lexa inclined closer, and closer still until Clarke could taste her breath without actually kissing those luscious lips.

“Still mad at me?” Lexa hissed, green eyes shining with longing as her minty puff soothingly stroked Clarke’s face, that the Sky girl almost leaned forward to close the distance.

“Y-yes,” was all Clarke managed, arching her brow as if it were so true. And boy how hard was it to feign anger when Lexa’s hand was crawling up her shoulders and only stopped when all fingers had gently claimed her nape.

“It’s late,” Lexa’s thumb brushed her neck. “I’ll provide you escorts. Do you need a horse?”

“I have not ridden a horse my entire life, Lexa,” Clarke informed. “Plus, I have friends. We’ll go back home together.” Her breath hitched as Lexa’s flushed body pressed her in place. Her hands fidgeted at her sides,aching to touch Lexa, to feel even just the soft fabric of her clothes.

But Clarke can’t do that, or her angry mask would melt like wax. She still hates Lexa. She hates being drawn to her so strongly, like moth, hypnotized by a candle that would later torch its wings.

She hates that Lexa’s the Heir, because she’d hate to share her with anyone. She hates that she can’t own her even if there’s a chance she’d consent. Because fuck, the burn behind those green eyes, and the tender way Lexa’s hands cradled her that moment were telltales that Lexa would agree had Clarke begged for them to be exclusive.

“Stay here tonight,” Lexa almost pleaded, very sweetly that Clarke’s chest constricted because she can’t. She won’t.

She cleared her throat, only to quash the hum she certainly would’ve breathed as Lexa stroked her jawline. “I won’t spend another night here. For sure those dancers will enjoy the privilege,” she snarled sarcastically. “If they haven’t yet before.”

Lexa’s brows creased in question, and Clarke gritted her teeth as all gentle circles on her neck stopped. “Why don’t you come to my chambers and know for yourself that it smells like you,” Lexa challenged rather calmly. “That every corner you turn, there isn’t any scent other than yours.”

Clarke took a series of deep breaths at that. She’d faint with her chest this full if she had’t. And the soothing brushes were back, this time on her earlobes. She inched closer, erasing the space between them and slowly captured Lexa’s lips. The Heir moaned in the hot and moist kiss as her tongue slipped in, tasting Clarke with selfish passion as though she’d missed her so much too.

By then, Clarke’s hands had skated up to Lexa’s hips. Her nails dug at thick leather waistband as she let Lexa angle her head to deepen the kiss. Clarke allowed the moment to stretch while they just exchanged moans and her heart somersaulted in her chest. She wished time would freeze. She wished to fly to another planet, where they could be alone like this and Lexa need not be the Commander. She wished Lexa would be hers, and hers alone every single day. 

Her hand trailed up to Lexa’s jaw, Clarke stroked it, feeling its hard edges as Lexa pressed aggressively. Their tongues were still in a hot tangle when Clarke regretfully pulled back. Lexa’s green eyes were bright at first, but morphed into balls of fright when Clarke kept her distance.

“I have to go,” Clarke softly choked out, trembling as she held Lexa’s face at arms length.

Startled, the Heir pronounced no words even while her lips parted in awe.

“I have to, Lex,” Clarke dejectedly mumbled, not bothering to hide the sadness in her eyes. Then she dragged her heavy feet out of that bathroom.

Thing is, she can’t allow any more of those passionate encounters. She can’t engage in another intimate night with Lexa, lest she’d fall. She’d fall for her, and her heart will break when eventually, she’d just be one of hundreds of women who will bear Lexa an offspring.

 

* * *

 

 

“Got it,” Clarke studied the cables in her hands. “Next?”

“Bravo Griffin, now connect that flat red wire to the transmitter.”

Ducking lower, Clarke obeyed the instruction. “Mmmmkay.. then?”

“Hold on— ” Raven spoke through rattles of the keys she punched speedily.

They’d been communicating everyday. All topics centered at the pod since the mechanic wished to monitor every microchip of her masterpiece. It goes without saying that the past week was spent opening panel boards and connecting cables per Raven’s orders. Today’s task was to find where exactly Clarke had landed.

“Hold up—there! I found you. Sixty degrees North, one hundred and seventy— Jeez Griffin, this place has a dome of thin smoke.”

“Really?” Clarke studied her own screen, where dots and lines she didn’t understand moved sideways. “Well, word has it that Polis escaped radiation,” she recalled thoughtfully. “You think that’s the reason?”

“Possibly,” her friend supposed. “We’ll find out once we’re down there. Our tech’s getting more genius, Clarke, believe me.”

“Who the fuck doubts you?” Clarke rasped and was disturbed by a whip of movement at her perimeter monitor. Raven rumbled jargons in the background while Clarke awaits her visitor to once again hover at the camera.

“Uh, Rae,” she called when the monitor finally presented Echo’s long face. “There’s a grounder at my door. Just, just wait a while.” Clarke clipped the wireless radio at her belt and strode to the entrance.

“ _Hainof_ requests your presence,” Echo recited even before the door had fully slid open.

“What’s the matter?”

The grounder all but shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m not going,” Clarke planted her feet at the doormat. “I have no business with the _Hainof_.”

 _Zzzzzt_.

“Who’s _Hainof_?” Raven’s voice crackled at her hip, joining the conversation uninvited, and Clarke could only grunt her embarrassment.

Echo, being the trained warrior she was, scanned the scene for what she presumed as potential danger. “Who spoke?”

“My friend.” Clarke held the radio up to prove that she isn’t a lunatic. “I could communicate with people in Space.” Then she brought the device to her mouth and muttered a quick, ‘Raven, quiet,’ which her friend answered with a derisive ‘Okaaay.’

Suspicion never left Echo’s eyes. She maintained a defensive stance and resumed speaking valiantly.“No one declines the _Hainof’s_ summons. I am to escort you to the throne room on her orders.”

“The throne room?”

“Heda rode to the Azgedan territory the day before yesterday, _Skaigada_.” Echo explained. “The Heir sits on the throne in her stead.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errrr so I received a nasty comment. Well, this story is told in Clarke’s PoV and she had been making assumptions since day 1. And first, not all of those have to be true; and second, they should not be taken against Lexa. I hope most read it that way? If this Chapter is too shady then I could take it down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially planned to link this under that last scene of Ch3, but our comments and convos wouldn't make sense then, so I decided to start another chapter.
> 
> There's one comment I'm holding in my inbox cause it's too telling; you know who you are and I guess I just answered your question :)
> 
> Haven't beta'ed this. Will do soon (perhaps), and while I haven't, please be gentle. 
> 
> Mochof all!
> 
> xx

True enough, she was ushered through the main doors of the white palace. Clarke strode past glaring eyes and craned necks as she faithfully tailed Echo towards the hall. Beneath the linen dress she stupidly changed into, her legs shook in agonizing patterns, which wasn’t much about the imminent meeting with Lexa, but more as an effect of traveling on horseback.

She was presented with a white mare as she exited her pod. A beautiful creature with an apt height and graceful strides that suited her preference. Clarke liked it, too much that Echo consumed little time teaching her the basics. The Sky girl acquired the skill pretty quickly, but otherwise abused the leisurely pace as they rode. They proceeded rather slowly. Very slowly indeed, that Clarke was sure they would’ve arrived at the mansion sooner had they walked.

Like before, Echo marched at the hall’s side edge to avoid the flock of people at the center. Most were audiences and only a handful will have concerns to raise, the warrior informed Clarke as they approached the front row. Save for the attendants and guards, all heads faced the antler throne, where the Heir lounged regally.

Clarke halted on her tracks when she saw her. Legs crossed, gold cape flowing like waterfall to her boots, brown locks fastened in a maze of braids, and her gorgeous face was traversed across the eye by an elaborate black warpaint.

Echo stalked ahead. “I’ll inform _Hainof_ we’re here so she can pronounce the day’s dismissal.”

“No, let her speak to the people,” Clarke countered, as she realize that Lexa’s duty as the Heir and the future Commander was bigger than both of them.

She tugged Echo’s arm, a bit forcefully that the warrior returned next to her at once. It is in that swift motion that Lexa took notice of them. But though Echo had been the clear distraction as she swayed to balance herself, Lexa’s eyes landed solely on Clarke. And Clarke can’t help but bask in the weight of that stare, spared only for her amidst the sea of people clamoring for the Heir’s attention. Lexa shifted in her seat and for a moment, Clarke thought she’d depart from the throne and stride to where Clarke stood waiting. But all the Heir did was sustain the gaze a little longer, before dipping her chin in a nearly imperceptible angle to acknowledge the Sky girl’s arrival.

“ _Hainof, Ai laik Sara kom Trikru_ ,” the grounder, standing at the circular space below the dais cried. She had short black hair and boasted a proud stance even as she bent her neck in a courteous bow. “My village’s scarcity of grain remains unresolved,” she claimed with reverence. “Does the Valley clan produce less yield these days?”

The hall crawled with low murmurs, but was promptly silenced by a blade that pierced one arm of the throne. Under Lexa’s hands, the knife somehow propped rigid over the narrow wood. “The Valley’s harvest is nothing but rich,” she stated with cold authority. “Our trouble lies in transporting the crops. We need to breed more horses. The Heda is aware of the matter and we are organizing an effective solution.”

Lexa then sought the amount of crops needed at that village, and ordered her warriors to deliver twice as much. They were to leave the capital at first light tomorrow, together with the woman Sara, who was to lodge in one of the mansion’s unused rooms that night.

The next grounder permitted at the empty space was a younger lady, though seemingly half a decade older than Clarke. A glossy mass of red hair covered her face like curtain as she bowed. “I bid you a good day, _Hainof_ ,” she dropped to her knees. “ _Ai laik Avon kom Trikru_ , but I reside in the outskirts of the Capital. I came down here for the wish to have a child.”

The request was received with a deafening silence, as though it was the most typical petition heard by the walls of that throne room. Lexa’s impassive eyes slowly wandered to Clarke, who was sweating excessively and quivering in trepidation. A droplet of blood leaked from where her sharp nail had slit her palm as blue eyes scowled at the Heir, whose answer Clarke was nervously anticipating.

Clearing her throat, Lexa forced her eyes forward. She seized her knife in a brisk pull and brought it to rest on her lap. “Copulation will not be granted in the interim,” she announced decidedly, as Clarke held her breath. And while the crowd seemed to have swallowed their tongues, she went on, “ _Avon kom Trikr_ u, the journey from the outskirts may not be long, but if you are tired, you are welcome to spend the night in the mansion.”

Avon rose from the stone floor. A tall woman, Clarke only noticed then. Her sandal strings were woven like vine around two thin calves, a thin brown wool wrapped her body, and her skin was tan and smooth that Clarke grudgingly assumed was untouched. “ _Hainof_ , if you allow it,” she swiped away the stray red locks blocking her bashful face. “I wish to stay until I am called to copulate.”

The hall was silent as all eyes bore on the Heir, who casually sheathed her knife. Clarke waited for those green eyes to find her again, but Lexa only sat erect on her throne, face without any hint of emotion. “I permit it,” she simply pronounced, exhaustion evident in her voice.

Avon bowed low and mumbled a reverent ‘thank you’ before a guard guided her out of the circle. Just then, another warrior, a burly one stepped below the dais. In thick Trigedasleng, she roared that the _Hainof_ is tired and will hear no more pleas that day.The crowd’s disappointment was manifested by low grumbles, but they had nonetheless dispersed, muttering to themselves as thethrone room emptied behind their shoulders.

The hall suddenly looked twice as large once the people had left, so quiet too that their footsteps seem loud as Echo guided her to the dais.

“Leave us,” Lexa‘s abrupt order bounced through the emptiness, and Clarke watched the warriors obey, appearing as small as ants before they disappeared out the main doors.

“Did you like your horse?” came the gentle tone she missed to hear.

But thoughts swirled in Clarke’s mind, the woman Avon claiming the largest part. And with that, she wasn’t really in the mood for pleasantries. “She’s lovely,” she replied plainly, looking everywhere but the throne before her. “But I guess using her to transport food would make more sense than carrying me from the forest to here.”

“One horse won’t make a difference,” Lexa concluded. “Polis is a series of islands, the solution needs to be more extensive than that. I am to dine with the boat clan delegates in the next hour to discuss this,” she paused for a few beats and cocked her head. “But my people’s problem shouldn’t be your concern. I summoned you here to discuss your people.”

Bewildered, Clarke finally raised her eyes to Lexa. “What are you talking about?”

“Heda thinks that your people will ruin our peaceful culture. She had dismissed your request, Clarke,” Lexa stated apologetically, green eyes hardening beneath her black warpaint. “No more of your people is permitted to descend in our lands.”

Clarke’s mouth fell agape, speechless for a while as Lexa silently watched her. It stung a bit that the woman who knew about her purpose on Earth, the one she slept with twice, (and possibly have feelings for, no matter how much she denies it), didn’t even lift a finger to help her. Or at least comfort her.

“We could help you,” she tried despite knowing it’s a lost cause. “My friend Raven is a genius, she can build machines to transport your goods. She built that pod that carried me.”

The Heir only shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“What would you do?” Clarke challenged, too busy forming her retort to notice how rapid her heart was thumping. “If my people decides to drop another ship, what can you do?”

Lexa didn’t flinch, but instead just reclined in her seat displaying her usual impassive demeanor. “How many of your people are left in Space? And how many of those will land here?” Lexa went on when Clarke all but scowled and gritted her teeth. “Two hundred? If half of those are men, then half of those are dead. And Heda will thereafter slaughter the women who survived the drop.”

“Well then fuck you!” Clarke growled but Lexa wasn’t at all shook by the outburst. “We are humans too, Lexa. We have the right to live in this world as much as you do. We aren’t bad people..” her voice weakened then as tears trickled down her cheeks, frustrated and desperate

“Enough,” Lexa interrupted rather gently, green eyes softening in concern as she stepped down the throne. “Hey,” she gathered Clarke’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry.” Lexa brought the back of her free hand to wipe Clarke’s cheeks. “Stop that.. Come with me to the boat clan meeting.”

“What for? What do I care about your people’s affairs—“

“ _Klark_ ,” Lexa searched her eye. “Please, come with me,” she said somewhere between a command and a plea that had Clarke sighing and nodding after a while, half-hearted. 

 

* * *

 

 

With the cool wind whisking blonde strands to her chin, Clarke’s eyelids briefly closed shut as she inhaled the misty air of sundown. 

It was in the least of her expectations for the gathering to transpire at the beach, even while she was received with an overly polite warmth. She wasn’t sure if that was because Lexa introduced her as someone from the Sky, who had knowledge in innovation and development, or simply because she was Lexa’s companion. And, according to the whisper that one grounder chanced at her ear, the Heir never brought any ‘friend’ anywhere. 

The informal meeting, held over meals, proceeded smoothly with Clarke having no other contribution but few reverent ‘hello’s,’ ‘pleased to meet you’s,’ and ‘I agree’s.’ Now, the delegates had fled, the sun was slowly retreating from the day, and Clarke still had no idea why she was invited there in the first place. 

“We can stop here,” Lexa’s voice interrupted her musings and the Heir almost immediately climbed down her black stallion. They’d been trotting on horses for a while and Lexa had led them to a secluded part of the shore, far from the bustling crowd of grounders at the city center. Lexa had been giving her stolen smiles since the gathering and her words had been tender and reassuring. The day had drifted slowly, and with it, the last bids of hate Clarke felt for Lexa had also been eaten away.

The Heir unclasped her gold cape from her shoulder, then hanged it neatly across the stallion’s saddle. “Come on,” she offered a hand, which Clarke gripped at, shifting half her weight to Lexa as she hopped off the white mare, letting the wind blow her dress underneath. 

Lexa’s long fingers lingered at her wrist, and Clarke had to drop her eyes to where a slim thumb was brushing her bangle. “What is this?” she asked, curious.

“Oh, it’s a device, so my people can check if I’m alive,” Clarke explained, pausing for a while as she recalls the dire news she needed to break to her mom. Realizing that nothing will change for now, she went on. “See those green lines? They indicate that my vital signs are okay.”

Lexa carefully released the Sky girl’s wrist. “Okay,” she smirked and went to tie their horses to a nearby branch. 

“That girl Avon,” Clarke bluntly spilled her mind while Lexa busied herself with the reins. “Will you bed her tonight?”

Chuckling softly, Lexa shook her head. “Only the Commander beds women who wants children, Clarke. The Heir is allowed to interfere only when Heda’s absence is long enough to threaten the cycle of reproduction,” her lips quirked upwards as she settled beside Clarke. “Still, it will be my decision. And, similar to all the Heirs before me, I have no plans in making that choice.”

Nodding, Clarke tried not to look so relieved.

They were in a place she hadn’t seen before. It was still at the beach, but its sand was white and fine like powder, giving the water a rich shade of teal. There were tall boulders scattered around, their shades ranged from cream to brown. Most stood by the shore though some were at sea, with roots partly soaked in water. “Why are we here?”

“I come to this part of the coast whenever I want peace and think.” Lexa’s eyes were directed at the waves. “I brought you here because I have a proposal to make.”

“Hmm?” Clarke’s heart thumped.

“None of my people needs to hear about this, Clarke,” Lexa clipped her hands to her back, their arms touched and the close proximity allowed Clarke to smell Lexa’s familiar scent. “I understand that bringing your people here is important to you. And I don’t disagree that you can help us improve our ways.” Clarke nods, even though she had no idea where Lexa was going with this. “So to serve both our interests, tell your people to stay in Space for now. I will permit their entry here when I become Heda.”

Dumbfounded, Clarke craned her neck sideways. Well, it was a brilliant bargain, and Clarke knew, through the equal determination in Lexa’s eyes, that this was the best option for both their people. And with that, she agreed without reluctance. “Deal,” she pronounced almost in a rush.

But as reality bit her nerves, her eyes fell and so does Lexa’s. “When?” she asked bravely, this time more for her sake than her people’s. “When will you be the Commander?”

“This summer,” Lexa told her mater-of-factly. Then hastily strode to the shore, crouching to collect ripples of water, which she used to wash her warpaint clean. Behind her, Clarke traced her steps but stopped to lean on a boulder twice her height. She silently watched Lexa, trying to resist running to her, and wrap her in a long embrace. 

Lexa’s head was upturned towards the orange sky, seemingly unconcerned at the waves slapping her boots. “In which direction does the Ark float?” her gentle voice purred through the calm ambiance, 

The Sky girl swallowed and thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go back?”

Clarke bit her cheek. “Do you want me to?”

Lexa squared her shoulders at that, her back went so rigid that Clarke almost yelled she won’t. But the grounder evaded the question. “I understand you like the beach,” she said instead. “ Does this place please you?”

Clarke smiled even though Lexa couldn’t see it. “I do love it,” she admitted, and well, maybe Lexa heard the smile in her voice. “I wished to see lots of places on Earth, but the ocean had always been at the top of my list.“ Lexa’s shoulders shuddered as she let out a decent laugh. “I used to love it so much, I even considered naming my first child after it.”

Lexa wheeled around, her brows drawn together but her lips were quirked to one side. “Ocean?”

“Mm-hmm,” Clarke proudly hummed, not at all perturbed by the teasing face displayed by Lexa, who was now walking towards her. “Then the second one would be Hill or Snow, if she’s a girl,” Clarke went on dreamily, eyes locking with greens. “I could go on..” she wasn’t done. “There were many others I hoped to see.”

There was a small smile in the tightness of Lexa’s lips, but it almost immediately disappeared. “I never thought about naming any of my children,” she pondered softly. “In any case, it won’t feel like they’re mine. It would only feel like they’re my people.”

Clarke’s heart sank at the words, and her hands moved to gather Lexa’s sad gorgeous face. “They will be both.”

Without preamble, her lips were captured in long chaste kiss. “Still mad at me?” Lexa husked the familiar question against her lips, the grounder’s strong arms stretching on either side of her.

Being the brat that she was, Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes.” 

“Why?”

She fixed Lexa with a serious look. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were the Heir?”

“I did say I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“That’s not the same.”

Lexa’s face dropped then. “I didn’t know how to,” she confessed. “I was worried it will scare you, but it did regardless.”

“From where I’m from, it isn’t a usual situation to be in, Lexa.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Lexa sincerely. “I’m not supposed to apologize for who I am, but I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m sorry that I need to be the Commander.”

Clarke’s hands, which were apparently still holding Lexa’s face, trickled down to her neck, her fingers locking at Lexa’s nape. “It’s not that easy, Lex,” Clarke’s blue eyes moistened as she spoke. “And we have to stop doing this.”

Lexa captured her lips, the grounder’s flushed body pinning her to the smooth stone behind. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Lexa pressed their foreheads together. “I don’t think it will ever stop,” her hot breath brushed Clarke’s nose. “I think you’ll be in my mind even after I become Heda.”

Clarke didn’t know what to do, or say. Her head was as empty as a chasm, and her lame resolve was to just lean forward and kiss Lexa deeply. Her chest was warm and light, stomach muscles rumbling and her heart was hammering against her ribs. “I think about you every night,” she managed to choke out, not caring how vulnerable she must have sounded. “And again, it isn’t easy,” she tugged at the hem of Lexa’s black shirt and dropped her eyes, blushing. “I feel like my head will split when I think about you having other women in your chambers.”

Lexa covered her mouth again, her plump lips smiling wide as she did. Then Lexa pulled back, searching Clarke’s blue eyes while she tucked blonde strands behind the Sky girl’s ears. “I’m not supposed to lie with anyone before my ascension.” 

“Hmm?” Clarke wasn’t sure she heard correctly. 

“The Heir could only violate that rule in cases such as Avon’s, but as I’ve said, I will never choose to do it.”

Clarke pushed at Lexa’s hip, holding her at arms length to study her expression carefully. “That’s bullshit,” she objected firmly, because there was no way that party night was Lexa’s first time. “You knew,” she narrowed her eyes. “You knew how to do it. You were good. You— you knew when to pull out..” 

“I do know because I’m the Heir,” Lexa pointed out, eyes serious and honest. “I’ve been taught all about copulation since my thirteenth summer.”

 _Too young_ , Clarke thought, and stood by her point. “Isn’t that what I’m saying?” 

“I was taught through books and counselling, Clarke, and not to experience the act itself,” Lexa expounded patiently. “Though I needed to touch myself at times, the farthest I had with a woman was a kiss.” 

“What? Lex I—”

“You were the only one,” Lexa promised. Her hand trailed up to Clarke’s waist and her smile was a little too adorable. “You have been the only one.”

Still in disbelief, Clarke shook her head. “No, I.. I feel like,” she paused, hands fidgeting at Lexa’s shirt. She was grabbing it too tightly that its knits might have just ruptured. “I feel like I abused you,” she raised her eyes only to find those pretty green orbs waiting. “Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

With her hands still at the Sky girl’s waist, Lexa somehow managed to shrug her shoulders. “Ocean is the color of your eyes, Clarke. I’ve travelled across all these islands but I have not seen anything as pretty,” she kissed her. “That night, you danced into my chambers with your tousled golden hair, your cheeks reddish with alcohol and your skin as smooth as porcelain. Then you stripped before my eyes, and I’ve never felt so weak. I‘ve never felt so eager to surrender to anyone’s wishes,” she kissed her again and Clarke seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. “You were beautiful,” Lexa swore. “You were so beautiful, Clarke.”

Clarke’s only response was a hitch of breath, and Lexa had to brush her cheeks to swipe the stream of tears that fell uncontrollably. Clarke spent all her life in the Ark, but she had never felt like floating in Space the way she did at that moment.  “Stop talking,” she kissed Lexa and pulled her close. “Stop making me hold my breath or you’re going to kill me.”

 

/ / /

 

As the waves broke at the shores, and the sun sunk lower in the sky, she’d unbuckled Lexa’s belt and her panties had slid to the sand. Somewhere between their heated kisses, she’d grappled Lexa’s dick, and it had hardened beneath her hands.

Lexa’s waistband was pushed just below the balls. Clarke bent to push it further down, but her face loomed at the head of the erect cock. She wanted to lick it then, wrap her lips around it and taste Lexa’s come in her mouth. She wanted to feel Lexa’s tongue assault her folds. She wanted both of them to experience every pleasure they deserved to feel.

But that moment wasn’t one for lust. It was theirs, about to happen in Lexa’s place of solace, and all Clarke needs in that sweet stretch of time was to make Lexa feel that she is hers, body and soul. 

“Everything okay?”

Clarke slid the waistband to Lexa’s knees. “Yes," she mumbled before long fingers tickled up her inner thighs, passing underneath her dress, and up her cunt. Clarke had gasped when thin fingertips strummed her wet entrance. She managed to open her legs around them, pushing herself into Lexa just enough to convey that she’s ready for her.

“Still mad at me?” Lexa hissed, teasing Clarke’s opening.

“Fuck yh-es.”

Smirking, Lexa withdrew her fingers, before carefully taking Clarke under the legs to lift her up. Her biceps flexed as she adjusts to secure Clarke’s ass with her hands, and finally pinned the Sky girl to the sturdy boulder behind. “Are you all right?”

“Mmh-hmm,” hummed Clarke, snaking her arms around Lexa’s shoulders to steady herself. Underneath her crumpled dress, she could see her cunt kissing the base of the Heir’s long, erect dick. “You?”

“Mmmm.” Lexa breathed, unable stop from pushing her vertical shaft into Clarke’s heat, and forced a whimper from the Sky girl, who took it in her hands.

She guided it to her clit, and slowly brought it down to her opening, where Lexa’s pink head fitted perfectly. The Heir did nothing but pant and watch, seemingly dedicating all energy to the slender body in her arms, adjusting each time Clarke shifted. Her hip didn’t move, as though she was allowing Clarke to sink at her own pace, to tolerate the pain as her walls split, and to seek the length she can endure. “It’s going to be deeper in this position,” Clarke mumbled hoarsely, and Lexa moaned both at the words and at the heat around her half-buried cock.

“We don’t have to slip it all in.” Lexa’s eyes glistened with concern. She seemed to consider leaning forward to kiss Clarke, but was scared her dick might jerk in uncontrollably, and she’d hurt her. “If it will make you sore—“

Clarke shushed her. “I’ll be sore for the next few days regardless. But I want to feel it. I want to feel you.” She slowly absorbed another inch, moaning softly at first but it got louder as she took more of Lexa. The cock was just so thick and long, and Clarke whimpered aloud when she’d sheathed it completely, its head extending to spots inside her where nothing had reached before.

“Clarke,” Lexa was breathless. “Klark, I’m so deep.” She kissed Clarke then, there was no need to worry now that she’s fully inside. “Are you okay?”

Clarke nods as they kiss. She could feel it too. She could feel her walls squeeze Lexa to the tip, she could feel the head almost sitting at her cervix. And she felt it when the cock receded slowly, then plunged into her wetness again. “Lexa fuck..” Clarke’s forehead dropped to the grounder’s shoulder, her fingers curling at Lexa’s sweating nape. “Do it again.”

Lexa complied, twice then thrice, and Clarke wailed loudly on her collarbones. Lexa was tearing her painfully, but fuck. Fuck. “Don’t stop,” she choked out. “It’s good, Lex.. you feel so good..”

Lexa held Clarke more firmly, fastening her further to the boulder behind, and Clarke used the added stability to completely undress, totally naked in the grounder’s arms. Her wetness rushed as she saw that sinful part where their hips met, where none of Lexa’s cock was exposed, as though she had become part of Clarke.

Discarding the grounder’s shirt too, Clarke lolled back to Lexa’s shoulders and watched half the shaft slide out of her, slick and glazed with her own arousal, before it smoothly disappeared again. Lexa hastened the thrusts, and had to capture Clarke’s mouth when her hoarse whimpers soared louder than the waves behind them.

Clarke’s flesh seared with heat, she pulled back from the kiss only to catch two thirsty green eyes staring at her bouncing breasts. “Kiss them,” she hissed, but Lexa’s expression was that of curiosity. “Why,” Clarke queried between pants. “Wasn’t breasts part of your counselling— oh, fuck.. aaahhh... fuck..”

Lexa sucked at her breast and Clarke developed her own tempo as she plunged into the grounder’s thrusts. Their sexes detached and met in a luscious rhythm of pleasure, and it had become too much that Lexa didn’t care to stifle Clarke’s loud moans anymore. The Sky girl was clenching tighter with every push, and it was when Lexa released her nipple with a pop that Clarke’s orgasm gushed in ripples, showering the cock that was still buried inside her with viscous cum.

And as she shuddered in Lexa’s strong arms, Clarke knew it.

She saw it first in Lexa’s eyes. Their pretty green shade were almost overwhelmed, thinned at the margins as the round pupils in their center dilated. Right then, Lexa  looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in Polis. And her green eyes burned into Clarke with a gentle plea, a question that Clarke needed no words to understand. With a soft smile, she nodded, cupping Lexa’s jaw and kissing her deeply to punctuate the consent.

Then she heard it in Lexa’s broken moan. The loudest she’d ever unleashed. Her voice trembled in Clarke’s mouth that Clarke had to brush her neck soothingly and whisper a comforting ‘It’s all right.’

And finally, she felt it inside her. Her brain had short-circuited and her heart had jumped in frantic patterns when the Heir’s precious seed surged to her womb. Clarke kissed her while the cold breeze of nightfall clothed their naked bodies. “It’s all right, Lexa,” she breathed. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and her heart had calmed, as she relished the jets of Lexa’s orgasm.

They poured inside her and dribbled to her walls.

They were strong, and rich.

And seemingly infinite.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, pardon the errors.

 

 

“The moon has much light tonight,” Lexa judged, eyes set at the bright grey sky before they slowly trailed to those peaceful blue eyes above her.

The Sky girl lay on her stomach, propped on both elbows with calves shooting upwards. As if to hug her, Lexa’s forearm slid between her belly and sagging breasts, and Clarke edged up slightly to accommodate the grounder’s slender limb. “It’s shining on us,” she comments, her voice hoarse as she absently create soft patterns on Lexa’s collar bones.

Only the Heir’s thick gold cape separated them from the fine sand underneath. At dusk, Lexa retrieved it from her saddle. Clarke watched her, all the while gripping at the edges of the stone boulder, thighs quivering still, and two different orgasms trickling down her inner thighs.

Lexa returned and kissed her at once, rather passionately that Clarke thought they’d fuck again right then. At the time, her cunt didn’t ache much. And though her legs were weak, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she’d open them had Lexa wanted to. But the Heir released her carefully, then went on spreading her cloak over the bed of sand, like it was the most mundane blanket in Polis.

‘We’ll lie on it?’ Clarke was hesitant even after Lexa’s nonchalant nod. The gold cape was a symbol of the Heir’s royalty, and Clarke wouldn’t belittle that just so her filthy body will have something to sprawl against. She’d already broken one of Lexa’s cardinal restrictions, a cloak is far easier to render homage to.

‘It’s a mere piece of cloth that could be washed, Clarke,’ Lexa eased her reluctance. ‘Besides no one else is here to judge my honor. Come on, we need to rest before going back.’

Clarke all but crinkled her nose and pouted as her doubt lingers. And before she knew it, Lexa’s arms were lifting her from the ground. The grounder’s muscles tightened behind her knees and the small of her back as she was carried and soon laid down. Giggling a little, Clarke found her mouth twined with Lexa’s by the time the velvet material found her back. They laid that way for a while, totally naked as the night deepened. And there, they fucked.

That second time they climaxed together, while Clarke laid shaking and panting, Lexa seemed to remember the risks and spilled herself on the sand. Clarke watched as the squirts erupted from Lexa’s slit. Her free hand grabbed tightly at Clarke’s thigh while her moans disturbed the stillness of the night. Lexa’s orgasm was whiter than the sand itself, and Clarke didn’t take her eyes off the seed until it rolled through the shore and was absorbed by it, dry and dead.

“It’s sad,” Clarke rasped as long fingers brushed her waist. “It’s sad that we share these moments, and knowing how everything’s going to end.”

Lexa’s head titled to the side, braids sliding swiftly against her own velvet cape. “How will it end?”

Clarke bent down to press a gentle peck on her chin. “You’ll leave me,” she mumbled silently, trying and failing to suppress the emotion behind it. The words earned her some acutely wrinkled brown eyebrows, and two green eyes which were darkened by more than just the night. 

“Why would you think that?”

Clarke crossed her calves in the air, heels almost slapping her naked ass. She obviously had underestimated Lexa’s fondness of her, judging the woman as one dirty animal who only used her as mate. It wasn’t fair, and perhaps Clarke could make it up to her. But is Lexa her lover now? If this little affair goes on, will the Heir of Polis ever ask a Sky girl to be her wife?

Shaking her head, Clarke expelled the ridiculous musings out of her head. “It’s your duty,” she simply returned, voice softer than a whisper. “Or at least it’s going to be.” 

“Mmmh,” Lexa only hummed, and Clarke wasn’t sure if that was an affirmation or a prelude to an objection. Then her plump lips curled to the side and her eyes fluttered closed. for For a long while she stayed quiet that Clarke thought she’d fallen asleep. And the Sky girl slowly leaned then, wanting to brush her nose against Lexa’s gorgeous face, but as she was halfway down, Lexa spoke softly. “There’s a horse,” she said, eyes still shut. 

“Hmm?” Clarke didn’t get it, but carried on rolling her nose against Lexa’s cheek, then placed a kiss on the smirk that was still on her lips. “What was that?”

“There’s a horse coming to us,” expounded Lexa, who engaged Clarke in a kiss while her green irises began to appear. “I’ve been gone too long, they’re probably looking for me.”

Clarke scoffed. “Of course they are,” she agreed, forcing her senses to perceive a trace of any nearby horse, and found none whatsoever.

“Do you feel cold?” Clarke’s brows furrowed at the question, but shook her head regardless. Lexa was the kind who thinks ahead, making Clarke inclined to trust her even with no glimpse of the entire plan. “Would you mind going into the water?”

“Not at all.” In truth, Clarke have been wondering why they haven’t soaked yet. Lexa pulled her neck down to a languid kiss, and it is then that Clarke heard the unmistakable clatter of hooves. She looked to Lexa, who slowly let her go, calm as usual. In a nimble movement, the grounder had gotten up, and helped Clarke to rise. Lexa’s not completely flaccid dick was at her hip, and it took a bunch of self control not to hold it as the stomps escalated.

“Just enjoy the ocean for a while.” Lexa pecked at her ear before Clarke ran to the sea, wading until the surface concealed her bare chest. She could now see the flicker of a torch growing brighter and closer. At the shore, Lexa had dressed rapidly, pants and shirt on.

Clarke had immersed herself twice under the waves as Lexa watched and smiled, the gold cape was neatly folded and hanging on her forearm. Then she turned her back to Clarke to await the messenger, whose horse galloped past the boulders and soon towered just a steps from the Heir.

“Lexa,” called the rider coolly, holding the torch steadily on one hand. Her thick black hair was hardly tousled even after quite a distance of full speed horse ride. Much like the beige dress that cascaded in layers beneath her, so orderly as though she hadn’t moved since she climbed her dark chestnut mount.

Lexa maintained a stiff stance. “Costia,” she impassively acknowledged when the horse had stilled, and added, ‘What brings you here?’ when the woman’s puzzled glance wandered to the waters. Even after Lexa’s question, Costia’s brown eyes stubbornly settled on Clarke, who met the stare with her own mask of feigned innocence and curiosity.

“Costia,” Lexa roared, this time with authority. “What trouble requires my attention?”

The woman gritted her teeth, eyes lingered at Clarke for few more beats before they shifted to Lexa. “A _Podakru_ family requests shelter tonight. I am not familiar with them. Only you can permit their entry to the palace,” she finally expressed. Unlike Clarke’s husky nasal one, Costia’s voice was sweet and dainty. Clarke hates it. She hates this unhealthy paranoia over all women surrounding Lexa. The only consolation she basked in were Lexa’s words just hours ago, in that very beach. That Lexa bent an important virtue for her. That _she_ was Lexa’s first. That she had been the only one, and that the Heir, who was destined to lie with every beautiful woman in Polis, can’t stop thinking about her.

“ _Klark_.”

And then Lexa called her name, its sound falling in that unique way from Lexa’s gorgeous mouth, as though she tastes every letter of it. Clarke shuddered a little as she brought her attention to Lexa’s next words. “ _Klark_ , we need to get back to the city,” she said, several notches knocked from its supreme tone. Then she turned to Costia with a more steely mask. “ _Klark kom Skaikru_ is almost finished with her bath. We will return soon after.”

Costia looked at Lexa with scrutiny, and her sweet voice had turned sarcastic. “You didn’t bathe?”

“No.”

“Yet you discarded your boots?”

 _Shit_ , Clarke thought, eyes darting to Lexa’s feet, clothed with nothing but sand. And her heart might have skipped had Lexa displayed any sign of tension. “Indeed,” the Heir returned plainly. “My cape is down too, if you haven’t noticed,” she paused to let the words sink in. “I deem this place private, where I could do just that.”

“A bizarre choice of company in a private place,” Costia comments.

“Not at all,” corrected Lexa. “There were matters to discuss, _in confidence_.”

Throwing a chuckle, Costia raised an eyebrow. “And shall I assume that the _Skaigada_ fancies the sea because the Sky wasn’t blessed with it?”

Lexa all but nodded, a smirk was on her face before Costia maneuvered her horse to the direction she came from. “Shall I send for a torch?” she asked.

“The moonlight is enough,” Lexa replied impassively and Costia nods. The grounder urged her chestnut horse to sprint and left without another word. 

 

/ / /

 

 

She could hear Lexa’s heartbeat from where her cheek pressed at the woman’s chest. Next to them, the black stallion slowly trotted, movements sure and measured like his master. Clarke’s own white mare, which carried them both, advanced steadily too.

They left the beach in separate horses. When Lexa helped her up the mare, Clarke had cringed as her fragile cunt had hurt upon settling on the saddle. Lexa only agreed they proceed because Clarke had assured she was all right. But as they rode, the Sky girl had moaned in agony at every uneven terrain. In the end, Lexa dismounted from her stallion, collected Clarke’s legs to one side of the saddle and climbed up the white mare. And since then, Clarke had lounged on the mare like a cripple, while Lexa effortlessly controlled both horses.

“What happens if we get caught?” wondered Clarke, absently brushing the velvet cloak that covered her lap as they thread the route to her pod.

“No one would see us riding in this manner, not many knows this path to the forest,” Lexa deadpanned as though that was all there is, and Clarke slapped her arm, saying ‘That’s not what I meant.’

Well, it’s kind of in the same sphere actually. Certainly,grounders would form wicked suspicions at such a suggestive sight : Clarke’s face unabashedly nuzzled between their Hainof’s firm teats; her arms, protectively positioned at either side of the Sky girl, and would’ve enveloped her in an embrace if not for those reins the Heir was maneuvering. Not to mention those two porcelain legs on top, and dangling beside Lexa’s lean thigh.

“There’s more than one way to resolve that, Clarke,” muttered a usual sanguine Lexa. “In any case, we will resolve it together.”

Releasing the cape, Clarke snaked her arms tightly around Lexa’s waist. “Why do you have to be Heda?” she asked, nearly sobbing as she buried her nose at the woman’s black shirt. “Why does it have to be you?”

A resigned sigh escaped Lexa and her response was as calm as the night. “You know why,” she muttered, confident that Clarke had the correct answer in mind.

She was right. Clarke had deciphered this long before. But she didn’t want to overhear it from the markets, nor did she want her friends to affirm it. She preferred the confirmation to spring from Lexa’s own lips. But it appears that the Heir herself refused to say it. And while Lexa offered any more words, Clarke let the words fall. “It’s biology,” she concluded. “Polis’ succession is based on biology. You’re the only one who has male parts.”

Her string of assumptions turned out false the past weeks, and Clarke desperately hoped she was wrong with this too. She hoped that there was another person in the islands who had a cock. Just one. Just one other is enough, so Lexa could evade the throne and whatever vile package it comes with. But as it appears, there was none.

“I’ve resented being the Heir since I understood what it meant,” Lexa confessed. “When Heda counsels me, she insists that it’s a noble role,” she rested her chin on Clarke’s blonde head. “I do agree on most functions. At least that power could be utilised to drive progress and help our people.”

Clarke was silent, just allowing Lexa to lead them through trees and fallen leaves. There wasn’t even a clear path in the route they were now treading, but Lexa seemed to identify the way with every bend of a branch. Clarke held her tongue a little longer, because no matter how much she hates it, she actually doesn’t disagree. Like her, Lexa loves her people. Clarke isn’t foreign to this, she’d seen a leader in her mom while growing up, and she knows that Lexa only complies with what’s required of her. Clarke understands. She understood, but still she had to ask. “What would happen to us?”

Lexa’s heartbeat was steady. And before Clarke knew it, long fingers were gathering her chin, only to pull it gently up a wet and luscious mouth. They lapsed in a passionate bubble until Clarke noticed the horse stop beneath her. She felt Lexa’s hands claiming her waist, so Lexa may have released the reins. The stallion had halted too. He was restless, scratching the dirt with one hoof and had whined discreetly, that Lexa had to smile. “He’s a rascal,” she told Clarke, whose lips she grazed, before urging both creatures to advance.

They regained a steady pace and it wasn’t long when the paths had brightened to what Clarke recognized as her pod’s vicinity. It was then that Lexa finally commented on the question that Clarke thought had vanished into the cool air. “I think about you often, and every time I do, I ask myself the same.”

“And?”

“And I haven’t found an answer.” Lexa admitted impassively as they reached Clarke’s door. Her green eyes, full of interest, surveyed the enormous sphere looming above her. The pod was undoubtedly a wonder to behold, with its sleek silver exterior, thick, roundglass windows, surveillance cameras, and height which would easily comprise two floors of Lexa’s own palace.

“Do you want to come in?” offered Clarke as the Heir helped her down.

Shaking her head, Lexa tugged the mare away to secure her on a tree. “I am needed at the mansion,” shesadly recalled.

“I’ll take your cape,” muttered Clarke, who was unmindfully hugging the very thing to her chest. “It’s filthy, I’ll wash it.”

Lexa’s brows furrowed as though that was a strange request, but as she grasped the Sky girl’s earnest face, she nodded and pressed her lips to Clarke’s forehead. “I’ll take a new cloak from my dresser before seeing the _Podakru_ ,” she said as long fingers gently circled the Sky girl’s neck. “No one’s certain of the future. But I know what I want, Clarke,” Lexa decidedly whispered. Apparently, their conversation about what happens to them was unfinished, but Clarke wasn’t complaining. She hummed silently when long fingers trailed to her cheeks. “At this point, all I can say is that I’m here. I’m here for you, Clarke. I’ll always be here.”

Unsure what those words exactly meant, Clarke simply expelled the thoughts out of her mind and crashed their mouths together, shutting her lids to completely feel the taste of those luscious lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assured her, adding, “I don’t want to go back to Space,” to finally answer Lexa’s question hours ago. The Heir whispered a delighted ‘Good,’ before kissed her again, tipping Clarke into a stupor for what seemed like a very limited time because soon, the Sky girl was unwillingly letting the woman go, her fingers prying one by one from the Heir’s knitted shirt.

“Good night, _Klark_ ,” Lexa smiled, regret evident in the sharp edges of her gorgeous face as she swung her legs up the stallion in reluctance.

Clarke’s chest was equally clenching, despite knowing that this will be a frequent state they will be trapped in. “ _Reshop_ Lexa,” she managed to breathe out, her tongue itching to ask when she could see Lexa again. Or ask if Lexa would consider coming back after her duties that night, and spend the night here, sleep in the same bed as Clarke’s because the Sky girl could sleep better that way. Clarke wondered if she could even demand that. She wondered if it was proper to ask those things of Lexa, now that the woman admitted she felt the same. But just then, the Heir had dipped her head in that familiar angle, then brought her horse to life. And Clarke could only watch as Lexa’s lithe, black form almost immediately disappeared into the darkness. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The afternoon heat filtered through her ceiling window and onto her bed. It’s probably past lunchtime again. With her eyelids closed, Clarke felt for the velvet cape that was littered somewhere on the bed. Her fingers found it near inches to her right and Clarke immediately curled herself under it. The cloak doesn’t smell like Lexa though, and Clarke isn’t pleased with that. Its fabric was specked with white sand and smelled of the sea when she took it, now it smells like the Arker soap she used to wash it with.

Lexa didn’t come back that night. But Clarke had slept all right holding on to that cape. She didn’t miss her much, because often, Clarke would wake up to a grounder knocking at her door, bearing a message that the Heir summons her. She’d be invited to the mansion, not every day, but frequently. And that had been the case for the three weeks that passed.

She‘d been received in the throne room like last time, but mostly in the war room. Save for two sunny afternoons where Lexa brought her to the gardens. It was a wide space covered with turf, teeming with bushes and varied shades of green, where none was nearly as pretty as Lexa’s eyes. They spoke over fruits and tea while Clarke enjoyed the clean turf under her feet, and the Heir inquired about the Ark. Lexa would scribble notes on occasion and that is how Clarke knew she said something valuable. She also observed that Lexa does this especially when guards and passers by watched them, as if to boast that the Sky girl was adept in business matters.

Inside closed doors, where they were alone and free from inquisitive eyes, Lexa’s Hainof mask would vanish. She’ll hold Clarke in her arms the moment she shuts the door. They’ll kiss for a while before the Heir would remember herself, and proceed to seek the Sky girl’s opinions on matters that Polis needed to resolve. They’d discuss formally, sitting on opposite ends of the palace’s grand tables, speaking each other’s minds, offering sound viewpoints. And because their perspectives often contradict, the dialogue would often go on for hours.

But even while they talked and cuddled a lot, Clarke and Lexa have not fucked again.

Clarke honestly likes it. She appreciates this new bond they were developing. She’d longed for someone to challenge her the way Lexa does. The woman pushes her to think beyond the surface, and Clarke couldn’t believe how the atmosphere of respect is maintained between them.

This week though, she hadn’t once stepped into the mansion. It’s not that Lexa hadn’t asked, just that Clarke had rejected the summons. She’d loved to see her, of course, but Clarke had been weary lately. She wasn’t aware that anyone could even be that tired. And it couldn’t be more bizarre since she hadn’t engaged in any draining physical activity the past seven days, but fatigue overwhelmed her body that all she wanted was to collapse in bed and sleep.

 _Zzzzzzt_.

“Clarke are you there?”

 _Crack_.

“Griffin?” Raven’s insistent voice crackled from the wireless radio once more.

Clarke regrets tossing the gadget at the foot of her bed the night before. “No, I’m not here,” she whined hoarsely, voice muffled by the cape that covered her face.

“You’re still in bed? It’s one in the afternoon at your coordinates,” the mechanic nagged. Under the covers, Clarke stayed silent. “You should have eaten lunch by now.”

“Ugh,” Clarke groaned. “I feel like retching.”

Again.

Her nausea began the day before yesterday. She’d been happy to wake up early, the thick mist of early morning still palpable from outside. But as soon as Clarke rose from the bed, her head spun beyond tolerance. With wobbly feet and a hand pressed to her mouth, she was lucky to have bent at the sink before bile began pouring from her mouth. 

Yesterday was worse. Her vomits were as relentless as a plague. Come evening, Clarke was weak to the knees for practically throwing up everything she’d ingested the whole day.

 _Crack_.

“Are you all right? What the hell happened to you?”

“No idea,” Clarke lied. Of course, there’s this insightful guess that’s been tickling her consciousness. And whenever she revisits the events of the past weeks, she’d almost convinced herself that she was right. But the signs had only been manifesting for days, and Clarke knew better than to draw conclusions this early. Still, she’d taken precautions. She’d been moving around her pod a little more carefully, had never attempted to mount a horse in five days, and had dismissed the option of treating these apparent illnesses with Arker narcotics.

“Raven,” Clarke lowered the gold cloak to her chin, cautious not to stir her head so much, lest she’d smear the bed with puke. “Is there another pod?”

 _Crack_.

“What?”

“Does the Ark have an extra pod like mine? Or a small ship. Anything to carry our people in case someone needs to come down soon?”

 _Zzzzzzt_.

“Engineering’s going nuts with this ship production. We need time, but there’s one that’s about to finish,” the signal was disrupted for seconds and the radio crackled before Raven resumed. “Why? The last thing I remember you wanted us in Space for at least a year.”

Clarke’s inner cheek was between her teeth as she thinks. “I don’t know,” her shoulders shrugged, as though Raven could see. “What if there’s a medical emergency, like what if I need mom? Or what if her research could yield more conclusive results if she’s here to take actual samples?”

The mechanic quietly considered this, while Clarke gazed at the still forest through her monitors. “Okaaay,” Raven acquiesced later. “You have a point..”

Then the dialogue took a different turn in favor of the usual engineering bullshits, which Clarke had learned to get the hang of.

Later that day, she managed to speak to Abby. Her mother was more lost than Raven had been, given Clarke’s ambiguous reasoning. Abby deemed it a waste to descend on Earth, by herself, in less months than the Council projected. Clarke had been persuasive, and it was only when the radio signals went astray that the conversation was cut. A conclusion wasn’t reached, but Clarke was far from letting it go. She knows how sensitive her condition was going to be. One which she needed to survive alongside her own mother, who was no less than a renowned doctor.

Setting the radio to the mattress, Clarke realized that perhaps she was overthinking.

Her stupid face was ripped by a smile though, as clouds of a lovely future stroked her fantasy. They were the same thoughts she had that one afternoon, when she'd been dead exhausted, her stomach had cramped, just once and abruptly. But that was the first time the possibility crossed her mind. She went to bed then, sprawling like a lazy cat, fingers running absently at her belly. She thought about Lexa, and about pairs of pretty green eyes. Perhaps some little brown curls too. And never did Clarke wanted anything as much her entire life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Heda was back.

And in the center of Polis, this could only mean one thing— a celebration.

As soon as darkness enveloped the day, everyone was ready. The tables were arranged, the stage was set per usual— three chairs occupied but one, and the people were clamoring for the utmost enjoyment the night offered. Everyone was having fun, save for one blonde Sky girl who was nearly fed up rejecting the shots of moonshine shoved to her nose. Later that night, Clarke found salvation in the form of a woman she can’t remember the name of. It was the grounder she danced with that first night, seeking her hand to once again showcase her moves at the dance floor, where few grounders were already grooving.

Chancing a glance at the stage and finding an engaged Lexa, Clarke took the woman’s hand, only to evade the insistent provocations for alcohol. The woman, she now learned was called Iris, gripped at her hips the moment they reached the center space. Clarke went with it, too weak to resist and unwilling to explain herself. Iris was an attractive grounder, tall and slim and blonde like her. She mostly spoke in Trigedasleng though, which was why they’d only exchange a few words.

Iris swayed her hips wildly, like no bones were attached to it, but unlike that first night, Clarke made no attempts to match it. She was moving just enough to project that she wasn’t faking the dance. It was when Iris collected Clarke’s hands, and settled them on her shoulders that a strong hand grabbed at Clarke’s arm.

“Sky girl,” she barely heard Echo’s voice against the loud music. “Please come with me.”

Instinct kicked in, Clarke’s eyes darted to the stage, where the Heir’s seat was now vacated. Well, why else would Echo drag her out of the dance floor?

She was led up a staircase, through empty halls, and into a corridor which looked like an endless veranda with one wall made of concrete and the other of balusters. Waiting there with her back to them was Lexa. Chestnut hair curled in intricate braids, her gold cape that flowed down her right side brushed the floor as she bent by the waist, both elbows resting on stone balusters. “Leave us,” her voice, as cold as the night, ordered while she gazed into the quiet garden below.

Looking at them knowingly, Echo pivoted on her heel to leave at once.

“I summoned you almost every day the past weeks and you refused to come,” Lexa relayed icily, not moving from her position. “Now you show up in this gathering and let me watch you dance with another woman.”

Being overly emotional lately, Clarke was equally glad with the jealousy and hurt by the accusation. “It’s not like that,” she tried to defend herself. And seriously, it wasn’t as though she’d look at anyone the same way she looks at Lexa. Clarke couldn’t even feel a desire for someone else since they met. It scares her sometimes. It was scary to know how lost she’d be if the woman decides to evade her. Especially now.

Swallowing her musings along with the bile in her throat, Clarke expounded. “I was only trying to avoid the liquor.” _If_ _you_ _only_ _knew_ _why_ , she thought. Clarke was about ninety five percent sure of her condition, and was only giving room for doubt because there was no proper test to confirm it. She honestly can’t wait to break it to Lexa, at the right place and time. Nottonight, not here where prying people might stick their noses into such a life-changing revelation. And especially not when Lexa is being all cold, motionless and quiet as though she hadn’t heard Clarke’s explanation.

“Lexa,” she pronounced the name tenderly, reaching the woman’s forearm even while she stayed inert. “Hey,” the Sky girl tried again, noticing Lexa’s sharp jaw clench as though she was trying so bad not to hold Clarke too. “I’m sorry. I declined the invitations because I’m..” Clarke controlled herself. “Because I‘m just really sick lately.”

Craning her neck sideways, Lexa finally glanced at her, green eyes suddenly soft with concern. “It’s alright now,” Clarke assured before the woman could speak. “Well, not totally, but better.”

“Shall I send for a _Fisa_?”

Shaking her head, Clarke silently refused, and went on stroking the arm beneath her fingers. “Not your healers here, no,” she searched Lexa’s eyes. “But I might need my mom soon. Can we find a way to welcome her here in half a year or less?” She had to ask despite knowing it‘s a long shot. She was positive that Lexa would be there for her, even through the repercussions. But in a foreign place such as this, Clarke needed a family by her side at such situation.

The Heir’s brows furrowed, the skin on her forehead crumpled with it. “Summer is in nine months. Another three more moons is not a long wait.”

“I know that. But I was hoping we could find a way. I need her,” she choked out again.

Chestnut braids wiggled with the shaking of Lexa’s head, eyes dark and her steely tone was difficult to conceal. “Klark, we talked about this. My power is limited before the ascension, you know that.”

Clarke pouts and her chest had gone heavy. Maybe Lexa would understand when she knows. Clarke will re-assert the subject then. That time though, all she did was crawl her fingers to the Heir’s cape. She felt the smoothness of its velvet fabric between her fingers. “I want this,” she muttered. “That cloak I have smells like all my clothes. This one has your scent.”

For the first time that night, Lexa’s lips quirked slightly. “But you can’t simply walk out of here carrying my cape, Clarke,” she reminded the stubborn Sky girl. “Until I am Heda, we are still under the Commander’s mercy.”

Clarke pouts again. “I want it,” she insisted. “How can _we_ bring it home?”

“ _We_?”

“ _I_ ,” corrected Clarke abruptly, giving the letter an exaggerated emphasis. It was fucking stupid to have slipped with a pronoun misuse. “How can _I_ bring it home?”

Luckily, they were at some dim part of the mansion, lest Lexa would see how red hot her cheeks were. And luckily still, Lexa seemed to let the we subject pass. “I’m afraid we can’t risk something as simple at this point. No Heda nor any Hainof before me had ever entrusted her cape to anyone.”

Clarke giggled a little. “I’m special,” she bragged, tugging the cape to herself and smelling it unabashedly. “A Sky girl needs special treatment.”

As though to confirm the statement, Lexa held her close. She gripped at her hip protectively, long thumbs brushing up to her belly that Clarke almost said someone else may be feeling the soothing strokes. “Indeed you are,” Lexa whispered, dipping her head slightly and Clarke had inched higher to meet her lips. 

“ _Chit don kom hir_?” (What is happening here), a woman’s questioning but relaxed voice echoed from behind her. Clarke’s heart thumped as she stilled at the unexpected intrusion. She considered jumping off of Lexa but that will only make them more obvious, because there was no way the woman behind didn’t see their blatant display of flirty gestures.

The Heir was rather composed though, looking past Clarke’s shoulders and into the intruder, with lips curling a little. “Clarke,” Lexa pressed a palm against the small of her back, then wheeled her around carefully.

Before her, Clarke beheld a meek woman with a kind smile, her hands were folded beneath a loose crimson robe, and her posture was regal and confident. She clearly had seen more years than Abby, though there weren’t much white stands among her braided dark brown hair.

Lexa cleared her throat. “Clarke, this is _nomon_ ,” she proudly breathed as an introduction, and Clarke had blushed. She considered to offer a curtsy, but doubted if that was a thing in Polis. In the end, she merely conjured the most polite grin she can muster. “ _Nomon_ ,” Lexa continued, an impressed smile painted her gorgeous face. “ _Klark kom Skaikru_.”

Tilting her head in acknowledgment, Lexa’s _nomon_ extended a gracious hand, which the Sky girl shook reverently. “You are as beautiful as Leksa described,” mumbled the _nomon_ , prompting Clarke to raise a brow at a grinning Lexa beside her. She gave Clarke’s back a little squeeze, as if to remind her to relax.

“Please call me Sonja,” the _nomon_ requested, and Clarke pulled her mouth into another smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sonja,” she returned respectfully. Clarke didn’t expect to meet Lexa’s mother this soon, nor did she anticipate the genuine warmth the woman would offer. And while she wonders how much Lexa had shared to her, Clarke couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant first meeting. 

“Are you having a great time at the palace?” Sonja asked sincerely.

“ _Nomon_ ,” Lexa butted in. “We should be on our way back, Heda will take notice of my unusual absence by now.”

Sonja‘s quirk of lips resembled Lexa’s manner. The smirk and the otherwise gentle smile had been the only features Clarke found similar between them, given that Lexa seemed to have obtained the rest from the Heda. “I expect as much,” the woman agreed before turning back to Clarke. “We must speak more next time,” she urged, to which the Sky girl had agreed gladly.

“Won’t you come with us _nomon_?”

The response Lexa got was a silent smirk. “I’m enjoying a very entertaining book at the library, my love,” her sweet voice relayed, keeping the conversation in english for Clarke’s sake. “And I plan to retire soon.” 

Observing this display of affection, Clarke couldn’t help but be startled. It’s not that Abby and her were any different, just that grounders possess this cold facade, that one would assume they lack a soft side.

“ _Sha, nomon_.” Lexa nodded lowly in reverence.

Sonja stepped forward and tapped Lexa twice on the shoulders. “Be careful out there,” she reminded, and give Clarke a smooth peck on the cheek before turning her back to leave.

 

/ / /

 

“Nope, no drinks for me tonight, Niylah,” Clarke reiterated for the umpteenth time before the shot disappeared down her friend’s throat in one gulp.

“You been in the dance floor so long,” Niylah comments, too drunk to analyze that that wasn’t the case. And Clarke could only grin.

Lexa, who stepped out of the mansion a little too long after Clarke, had reclaimed her seat at the stage, and was now gazing at the crowd in her typical regal stance. She glanced at the Sky girl more frequently now though, as if on guard in case Clarke actually attempts to dance again. To Lexa’s side, the Commander was busy with what seemed to be a delightful chat with the woman at the leftmost throne.

The sight didn’t escape Clarke’s notice as she returned sauntering to the party grounds. _The Heda’s wife had finally wiped the dust in that seat_ , she’d thought. Until doubt crept up her brain. Well, if there was anything she was consistent with lately, it’s that all her assumptions were off target. The woman was young, perched on the throne in a grand poise, though more casually. Even with a strong demeanor, she lacked the authoritative mask of a royal. And how could she miss the familiar profile of that rider at the beach. The vivid feature still crawls through Clarke’s mind even though she last saw her over a month ago. By the time Clarke slumped at the bench beside Niylah, she was sure of who the woman was. It was Costia.

Raising her chin to the stage, Clarke tried to pry. “That woman with thick black hair, she isn’t Heda’s wife, is she?”

Niylah’s eyes narrowed, as though she couldn’t see. “Who, Costia?,” Niylah chuckled. “No. Costia is not of the Heda’s generation,” she trailed off in lieu of a hiccup. “See, the _Hainof_ will be crowned soon. She will bed us lot who will reach the proper age after the ascension.”

Damn it.

“But,” Clarke went on, expelling the thoughts of Lexa in bed with Niylah, and Costia, and Echo, even Iris. It wasn’t everyday that she’d meet a drunk Niylah, who seemed to blurt every information she knows. “Why is she on the Wife’s throne?”

Another chug of moonshine before her friend replied, her voice hushed like what she was about to say was confidential. “Rumor has it that Costia is Heda’s favorite daughter,” she said. “People in this mansion say she’s often favored over the _Hainof_ Lexa herself.”

“Huh.”

“Yea Sky girl, that’s the rumor. But no matter,” Niylah was thoughtful. “I personally suppose Costia will be her wife anyway. Just look at those curves in Costia’s body,” she pointed at the stage. “For sure _Hainof‘s_ cock gets rock hard when she sees that woman wearing only silk nightgowns. They been living in that mansion since childhood, if they haven’t fucked yet.. Uh, do you reckon they’ve fucked many times?”

Clarke’s ears were red with fury. She shrugged her shoulders. “How would I know?”

“Ha ha. ‘Forgot you dunno about that,” jeered her friend, and Clarke’s eyes rolled because again, that wasn’t the case. At the stage, Lexa was observing them intently, probably wondering what madness was present in the platform for Clarke and her friend to fuss about.

“Or maybe they really are virgins still...” Niylah went on with her theories, tapping two fingers to her chin like she was considering this deeply. “Nah. I think they did,” she nodded to herself. “I’m sure they’ve fucked.“

 _No they haven’t!!!_ Clarke wanted to scream.

“But even if I’m wrong.. Costia will certainly be with child that same night of _Hainof’s_ ascension.”

By then, Clarke was totally craving for a shot of moonshine. “You don’t think there’s another woman?” she stuttered. “I mean, someone else that Lex— the Heir wants as a wife?”

A wobbly arm was thrown across the Sky girl’s shoulder blades. “We fools exchange gossips and speculate, Clarke,” her friend said, head shaking a little, breath reeked of alcohol next to her cheeks. “But no one knows who’s to be the Heda’s wife.”

Surprised, the Sky girl had stopped dead, nails absently digging at the wooden bench she was sitting at. What the hell was this new information that she again failed to grasp? She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t funny how we all common people could choose our wives, but the the ever powerful Heda could not? That’s probably the most terrible limitation huh!” The grounder smirked like a drunk fool, and squeezed the next words from her throat when Clarke narrowed her curious eyes. “You ignorant Sky girl.. The Commander’s wife is the very woman who will bear her the Heir,” she finished.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very short one.  
> 'Had to close this first part before the holidays.  
> Merry Christmas all !!!  
> xx

 

 

Sleep didn’t come easy that night even through exhaustion. So Clarke had thrown the duvets aside and made for her drawing tools downstairs. She’d been utilizing the small glass lift up and down the pod. Its space was meant for just one to two persons and Clarke hates how suffocating it was. But as it happens, she doesn’t have much choice.

Leaning back on her pillow, Clarke folded her knees to support the paper higher, as she scratched the outline of Lexa’s fierce warpaint.

Just then, a distinctive clatter disturbed the perimeter camera. Clarke raised her eyes to find a hooded figure, mounted on a brown horse. It whooped past the monitor so rapidly that she barely had time to investigate who it was. Counting a few beats, Clarke opened a small drawer nearby, where a pistol was securely tucked. She had to ensure the weapon was there, just in case. Then, she returned to her task.

The Sky girl was trying to perfect the sharp cut of Lexa’s jaw when she almost jumped out of bed because for the first time, her pod’s door buzzer had rung. This was odd, given that she’d gotten used to the grounders’ blatant tapping of her home’s metal entrance.

As expected, the hooded figure showed up at the entrance camera. She was still covered from head to toe, but Clarke developed a hunch. Pressing a button, Clarke raised her mouth to a perforated spot on the wall and spoke. “Hold on, I’ll be right there,” she said, certain that her voice traveled through the wires as the hooded woman seemed to offer a familiar minimal nod.

Dropping the canvas to the bed, Clarke strode to the glass lift and was soon pushing another button that slid the main door opened. 

The hooded figure swiftly swooped in, quiet and light as a feather. Clarke’s guard was clearly as tall as her ankle but it doesn’t matter because the person that had just invaded her sanctuary was Lexa, of course. She’d dispersed her distinct scent the moment she stepped into that threshold. And Clarke, who could well smell her from two feet apart, immediately closed the door.

“Party’s just over?” The Sky girl wondered as Lexa brought both hands to her head, and lowered the hood to liberate her brown hair and gentle face.

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” And Clarke couldn’t take it anymore. Unabashedly, she went on throwing herself into Lexa’s waiting arms. “I’m glad you came,” she admitted, nuzzling at Lexa’s chest as she noticed the woman scanning the pod’s modern ground level.

It wasn’t long when the Heir stepped out of her grey outer cloak, which the Sky girl collected in her hands and folded systematically over the couch’s armrest. If Lexa doesn’t plan to stay the night, Clarke was half-sure to ask. But right then, she needed to know something else. “Is it true?” she began. “Is it true that the Heda’s wife is the woman who will bear her the Heir?”

Lexa was taken aback by the peculiar question, as though wondering where it came from. “ _Nomon_ is the Heda’s wife, yes,” was all she answered.

“So it’s true then?”

Lexa bit her lip. “It is,” and when Clarke’s face darkened she added, “That is the law _to this point_.”

“Could you change it?”

Lexa evaded the question, and instead just unclasped the gold cape from her right shoulder. “You wanted this,” she held it to Clarke.

The Sky girl took the cloak wholeheartedly. “I’ll keep it until your scent goes off,” she said. But Clarke was far from letting the topic go. “If you can change—“ the words were drowned when she released an agonizing moan as her belly had clenched.

Lexa was quick to hold her, arms carefully supporting Clarke’s hipbones as the Sky girl’s hands folded at her abdomen. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you I’ve been sick,” Clarke offered, her plan to discuss the wife all but forgotten.

Lexa searched her face, eyes blazing with worry. “Klark, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” corrected Clarke weakly, as she allowed Lexa to pluck her out of the floor, and carry her to sit at the couch.

“Then what is it?” Lexa was almost angry. She went down on both knees, positioning herself between the Sky girl’s thighs to bring their faces at the same level. Her arms fell over the cushions and possessively settled at each side of Clarke‘s ass. “Klark, tell me what’s happening.”

Well, there wasn’t any more room to keep it from Lexa. They were alone, under the secure and private confines of Clarke’s sphere home. The perfect ambiance she had been waiting for to announce her sensitive condition. Besides, it was better for the Heir to know this before they discuss whatever law they wished to twist.

Collecting Lexa’s hands by the wrist, Clarke slowly brought it to her belly, and covered that very hand with her own. “You won’t feel her this soon,” she mumbled, and had scoffed at the sight of a creased, puzzled gorgeous face in front of her. Clarke took a deep breath then, and grinning, she unrestrictedly exhaled the truth. “I’m pregnant.”

Green eyes exploded the widest Clarke had seen them. There was a speck of brightness in those irises that Lexa refused to liberate just yet, but it was there. Lexa moved her chestnut head somewhere between shaking it and pulling away from Clarke. “I—,” she trailed off. “I beg your pardon?”

Rolling her blue eyes, a silent scoff flowed through Clarke’s nose again. “I’m pregnant with your child, Lexa,” she pronounced for the second time, giving the woman’s hand a gentle squeeze from where their palms were an inch of skin away from their child.

This time, Lexa’s green eyes had sparkled with joy, curving into a smile and free of any inhibition. “Are you certain?” she asked, hopeful. Her other hand cupped the Sky girl’s jaw then, capturing her into a hungry kiss, until Clarke noticed an uncharacteristic wetness at the cheek she was also holding in her hand. Lexa was fucking crying. “Are we certain about this?” she really needed to know.

The Heir was gazing at her expectantly, that she‘d ignored the gentle fingers Clarke moved to wipe her tears. “Well, let’s see.. I’ve been soo exhausted lately, then I retch like there’s no tomorrow,” she pinched Lexa’s cheek at that, harder than intended that sure had hurt. “I’m having stomach cramps such as what you witnessed just now.. and my period missed this month..” she halted as Lexa covered her mouth again. The Sky girl met every stroke of the her lover’s tongue with affectionate passion. Her heart was hammering at her chest, and she had never felt so full from within.The happiness she felt at that moment wouldn’t have compared to anything.

In truth, she’d been scared at times. She couldn’t help but be worried on how Lexa might react. Though as she thought about it, Clarke had convinced herself that perhaps she was underestimating Lexa’s feelings for her again. And as it appears, she had.

“Could she hear my voice?” Lexa wondered.

“Uh, nope,” Clarke hated to disappoint them both. “Her organs aren’t developed yet, Lexa. But,” she leaned forward to crash their mouths again. “Who’s to say we can’t talk to her?”

Giving Clarke another languid kiss, Lexa inched lower, her face still securely cupped in Clarke’s hands. She stopped at the Sky girl’s belly, and pressed her cheek to Clarke's night dress. “ _Hei, strikon_ ,” (Hey little one), she called as Clarke watched grinning from above. “ _Ai gaf teik moubeda bos houd par yu en nomi_ ,” (I’m going to build a better world for you and mom), she promised.

 

 

 

 


End file.
